Look the Other Way
by FadingStarlight
Summary: Voldemort has won, having forced Dumbledore to flee the country before leaving baby Harry in the care of monsters. Years later, the Dark Lord has set up his kingdom when a force previously hidden resurfaces into the magical world. AU, Future LVHP slash.
1. The Dead and the Undead

Title: Look the Other Way

Summary: Voldemort has won, having forced Dumbledore to flee the country before leaving baby Harry in the care of monsters. Years later, the Dark Lord has set up his kingdom when a force previously hidden resurfaces into the magical world, bringing with them a familiar green eyed slave. Slash future HP/LV

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: This fic will most likely be worked on during free time when I'm not working on DBNP. Just thought I should post what I already have for now ^^

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Prologue: The Dead and the Undead

The small bundle that he carried in his arms was that of a baby boy. The old wizard couldn't imagine how such a little child carried the hopes of many. Having taken the boy from his crib, Albus Dumbledore felt as though he had aged a century in the ten minutes since he arrived in the Potter home. Harry James Potter was a indeed small little thing, an adorable baby as acclaimed by many who have met him. He had his father's wild hair, raven black in color and still so short that it curled on his head. His beautiful green eyes, inherited from his mother, were closed in sleep. He had exhausted himself from the endless crying he had done before Albus arrived.

He was a just a boy... barely a year old and already targeted by the cruel hands of fate.

Dumbledore didn't have time to dally, no, he had to leave quickly before anyone else arrived. He had to get to the floo. It was the fastest way to get out of the ruins of the Potter home if it was still working. He saw no sign of Tom, who had taken the alias of Voldemort but he expected the wizard to return for little Harry's life. Whatever had happened here and he could guess much of what had happened, he knew it wasn't over yet. The still vibrant scar was an angry red on the boy's forehead and a testament of what foolish Tom Riddle had done.

He could still smell the remnants of dark magic lingering in the air, speaking to him of dark wizards and a parent's plight in protecting their family. It was a foreign component in such a loving home.

He grieved as he passed the body of the child's mother. She had been a beautiful woman, so alive and burning with a passion for magic. Her wavy red hair spilled across the ground in a mockery of spilled blood. She had been pale in life and even more so in death. Her green eyes were open as though still locked in contest with her murderer. Dumbledore, who had never seen such an expression on sweet Lily Evans' face, felt something akin to dread crawl up his spine. Her eyes, green, dead, mocking... still dared her murderer to do his worst, laughing at him. But she was dead and could no longer help her son who was miraculously alive.

The poor child, he had no one left in the world. James Potter had laid dead and unmoving in the ruins of what had once been a cozy living room. Dumbledore knew that his only living relatives were muggles, a Mr. And Mrs. Dursley. He had heard much about them from his weekly visits with the Potters. He had been hopeful at first, thinking that it was a simple family rift caused due to a misunderstanding. Misunderstandings always caused big messes but could be healed through time and effort. Recently however, he had come to understand that it went beyond such a simple thing. Between the two sisters was enmity, a channel of feelings dug deeper and deeper by years of loathing, spite, and revulsion.

Albus would rather place little Harry Potter in an orphanage than hand him over to people who would surely detest him.

His other option was to place the boy with his godfather, Sirius Black, who was loyal to Dumbledore. But the man would be a mess after hearing about the deaths of his best friends. Albus prided himself on knowing people, their strengths and their weaknesses. He knew Sirius Black, courageous, loyal beyond a doubt, and while he would try to put up a strong appearance, he would be an utter mess inside. Even if he had somehow managed to pull himself together during this, he wasn't fit to take care of a little child. He was also reckless, a bachelor for life, and had absolutely no clue on how to raise a child other than making absurd faces when the child started crying. Children needed more than entertainment to survive.

He could not afford such a risk. This boy... was beyond special. He was their hope, their everything... their one chance to save their society which had gone into a downward spiral since who knows how long ago. He could not afford to risk the boy's safety with magic hating folks nor to the carelessness of an overgrown child.

Fortunately, it did not have to come to that.

Reaching the fireplace, he saw that it was still in working order. Picking up the silver dust that was placed in a jar above the fireplace, he called out the name of his location. Before stepping in, he covered the boy's face with a blanket to avoid dust from awakening the still sleeping child.

He arrived in a study, the room unlit except for a small lamp sitting on top of a desk. The room was dark, but he did not light the candles that were handing from the ceiling.

He pulled the blanket away from the little boy's face, staring at the troubled expression of the sleeping child. He wondered if the child was having nightmares but then dismissed the idea. It would lead him to pity the boy and he already had much of that. Anymore sympathy towards the child might force him to reconsider his plans and that was foolish. Harry Potter's life, if things went accordingly would become a nightmare in itself but the boy would survive.

Being in this place made Dumbledore very uncomfortable. The aura he felt here was one of emptiness. He could sense no living soul nearby. There were no quiet buzzing of distant sounds beyond his occlumency shields as he often heard amongst other wizards and humans. He heard... nothing, the lack of activity that indicated life. It was a very cold place, as though even the light of the sun could not warm the atmosphere.

He told himself that this was necessary, that it was for the greater good. It was the best he could do and that had to be enough.

Voldemort was still out there. Even as he waited in this sparse room, he knew that Tom was regaining his strength. Clever Tom had daringly taken precautions against death and with this knowledge; Albus knew that it would not be safe for Harry Potter anywhere.

Except maybe here.

The door of the study opened silently as a figure floated into the room. He had once been a man but was not any longer. He stared at Dumbledore expressionlessly; the clear blue eyes cold and undisturbed like ice. His hair was past his shoulders, sleek ebony black that was pulled into a low pony tail at the nape of his neck. His skin was flawless, and a translucent pale that he could see the blue of his veins and the shape of his bones just under the skin. He was dressed like a muggle, wearing not robes, but black slacks along with a white blouse. His unsmiling lips were red, like freshly spilled blood.

He was a very handsome man, but more importantly, he was not a man or a wizard. He was a vampire unlike those the wizarding world was accustomed to seeing. Casimir, for that was the only name the vampire had given him, was part of a different vampire race. It was one that had hidden beneath the awareness of both muggle and wizarding world. They claimed direct descendant from Death, and claimed relation to the now mindless dementors.

Dumbledore walked over to the vampire, neither offering his hand nor words of greeting. Instead, he simply said, "I am calling for payment for a past debt." The vampire's nostrils flared in indignation but otherwise, said nothing. "I need your... people, to take in this child. He is not safe in England for there is a dark wizard that would end his life if he had the chance." Dumbledore stared at him, his normally twinkling blue eyes piercing and just as cold. He was in the company of a monster. "He is very important to me."

They were not friends, nor allies. It was a relationship based solely on business due to the existence of a debt between the two.

Casimir looked down upon the bundle in Dumbledore's arms, his blue eyes taking in the face of the sleeping child. He lifted a hand, tracing a sharp long nail against the vulnerable skin of the baby's cheek. "Doing this will repay the debt owed to you," he acknowledged. The vampire's voice was hoarse, unused to the speech of men. His eyes looked up, the crystal blue eyes dangerous. They were hostile, and Albus felt the other's restrained urge to hurt, to kill. They filled with a malicious intent as though he were contemplating of draining Dumbledore of his blood. One could never tell what magical beings such as vampires would want.

"It will create a debt to us. We can offer him sanctuary here. We cannot offer him life."

Dumbledore clenched his teeth in frustration. Dealing with such creatures were nearly impossible. He could not afford to be indebted to them for they could ask for many things and he would be bound to agree. The vampire chuckled at him, the laughter coming out strained and unnatural. "There is another way." He moved as though to take the child from Dumbledore but the wizard backed away, keeping the sleeping boy with him. "What are your terms?" he demanded. He would not be tricked by this being.

The vampire smiled, his lips curving upwards as he savored his next words. "Humans are not kept here except for one purpose and one purpose only."

Dumbledore felt a shudder of disgust go through him. The only way humans were kept in this place of darkness was as... food sources. Bound to the vampires not by magic or promises but by the slowly addictive bites they received during feedings. They became addicted to the thrall of the vampires. These victims were nothing but a portable snack to the monsters, convenient and easily maintained.

But the alternative... the alternative may be worse yet. Not just for the boy's sake, for Tom would surely slaughter him, but for the entire wizarding world. It would be a world with no hope if Tom ever got his hands on the boy. Besides, the boy had magic in him. Muggles used as food sources quickly became addicted in a matter of years. If they survived the bites for however long, they often became mindless creatures just waiting for the next feeding. It was a horrible fate.

For a wizard, it took longer than that as the magic in their blood tended to nullify such addictions. It did not completely protect them but it meant that it was a slower process. If he could retrieve Harry before the addiction took hold, then it was a workable solution.

He did not move away as the vampire gracefully stepped forward to take the child. Dumbledore let him, feeling one burden slide off his shoulders only to be replaced by another heavier burden.

"Our debt is paid," the vampire stated, Harry Potter in his arms.

Dumbledore stiffly nodded, turning away without another word. Standing in the floo, he glanced back to see the vampire still standing there watching, the little child held in an unfamiliar hold. _Monsters,_ his conscious whispered in his mind, adding guilt to the pity he had for Harry. _It__ must be done! The deal was already made,_ he desperately thought.

He snarled the words, "Hogwarts!" before stepping into the flames.

Casimir stood there for another moment, the baby still in his arms. To him, it felt strange holding such a small thing knowing it was still breathing, still alive.

The affairs of wizards had never interested his people. If they had owed a debt to this dark wizard that Dumbledore opposed, they would repay it at a moment's notice. Why would they care if wizards destroyed one another? They had passed through centuries hidden in the shadows, watching as man waged war against man. They had watched for a time, the creatures were amusing and the bloodshed had been delectable. However, boredom had quickly set in, and so his people had gone underground beneath the awareness of all others. They did not care what would happen in the human world nor in the wizard's world.

He looked down on the sleeping baby. If this little one was to be sacrificed for a wizard's war, they would not care either.

Just then Harry Potter awoke, his green eyes looking up at the vampire's glowing blue ones.

The vampire inhaled sharply in surprise, a long forgotten reflex brought forth to surface from the memories of his humanity. It was an emotion that was mostly absent in his long life.

He stroked the baby's pudgy cheeks with the back of his hand, feeling warm skin against his cool unliving one.

Tentatively, he spoke to the child in the way of vampires, feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: excitement.

_Little one, do I know you?_


	2. That Which is Out of Reach

A/N: Yay chapter 1! Special thanks to Ann10550 for beta-ing and SilverHineko for helping with this story :D And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and waited patiently for the updates ^o^

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Chapter 1: That Which is Out of Reach

The figure stopped just within touching distance from the building. He knew beyond a doubt, that if he had taken even one more step, Voldemort's scouts would be on the move within seconds.

He had heard that the school had been shut down for years now, but knowing and actually _knowing_ were different things. The impact of that knowledge didn't hit him until he came face to face with his long time home and was forced to acknowledge the changes that had been wrought upon her.

The most noticeable difference was the lack of life here. It gave him chills as he remembered a similar place, a dead place that was home to no one but monsters. He shook the thought away, not wanting to get side tracked in such a dangerous situation.

What lay before him was Hogwarts, beautiful Hogwarts that had been home to many, refuge to even more, and now shelter to no one. No longer did the building come alive with the activities of students though he could still hear the echoes of friendly chatter in the back of his head. There was a distinguishable scent that still lingered, though it was a faint scent. It was the scent of magic from the many years of sorcery that permeated the air from its practice in the classrooms and activities. Now, there were no lights that he could see from within.

The place was very cold, lacking the warmth of humans and the lively chatter that would've been a quiet melody from the outside. Hogwarts was a worn building, true, but she was magnificent under his care. And now, she looked abandoned, a lonely, dark, giant amidst the empty surroundings.

Voldemort had shut down Hogwarts, unable to gain control of her wards other than ripping them to shreds so that they were useless. She was a dying building now, like a grand oak that had its roots cut off. Like moss, the magic that the Dark Lord had placed over her, which had many purposes, was not as strong as he had anticipated.

He was grateful for that at least, though he mourned over the loss of Hogwart's powerful protection spells. Ancient magic that had been built into her very stones and foundation by the founders had persevered through time with the aid of countless number of Headmasters and Headmistresses. Now, they lay in ruins, powerful magic like ripped shreds of cloth wavering in the wind. They still had life in them, but torn as they were, could only do one thing, and it was that one thing that the figure relied on.

It took careful study, but the unstable magic of Hogwarts interfered with Voldemort's alarms in a favorable manner. There were many, so many trips and traps that if he took one misstep, one inch too close to one, they would set off alarms that would bring an army down upon him. Dark robed figures with their grotesque masks of white would descend upon him like starving dogs on a bone.

They'd be able to trap him here, here in his home of so many decades. He could take many of them down; there wasn't another wizard that could rival except one.

He lifted a hand as though to touch the almost invisible wards and alarms that littered over the towers and walls of the once beautiful castle. His heart ached to see such a once active and overflowing building reduced into a haunted nothing.

A twig snapped. His wand was in his hand, already pointed in the direction from where it came. Adrenaline, sweet adrenaline, pumped through his veins, heart racing and mind as sharp as a blade. His breath froze in his chest, eyes unblinking as he tried to catch even the smallest movement that signified he was not alone.

He saw nothing from the Forbidden Forest, and yet he didn't lower his wand. Instinct or perhaps paranoia guided his actions and yet he couldn't lower his weapon. Perhaps all the years running, hiding, and on the move had twisted his senses so even the shadow of a tree would look like a hidden enemy just waiting for their chance. Paranoia or not, he knew it wasn't safe here. It was foolish sentimentality that convinced him to stay so long instead of the quick inspection that he had planned.

He glanced around, surveying the dark woods and his surroundings. There was no indication that he had been found, but even still, he briskly walked toward one of the holes in the warding magic he had found. With a wishful glance back, he turned and continued.

To stay would have been even more foolish. It was time to move and fast.

As he neared his destination, he ducked behind a tree as he heard voices.

Wand gripped tight, he cast a nonverbal spell that blended him into the bark. His black robes stiffened, raising and falling into a pattern similar to the tree that sheltered him. He held his arms close to his sides even as some of his gray hair formed into small leafless branches.

He closed his eyes, for the very blue of them would attract attention to his disguise and shatter the very illusion that would save his life.

It was quiet. Even the forest creatures stayed away from the Death Eaters that were patrolling around the premise.

They should not have been here. It was the hour where the guards were changed and the ones that were supposed to take over were lazy, unobservant lackeys that walked like lumbering giants. The chance he had taken had been optimized so that even the slightest disadvantage was reduced to its lowest threat.

Their voices drifted towards him, coming closer to where he hid.

"That's one of them." A male voice said. "The Dark Lord demands that we take stock of every tear, small and large."

Another man grumbled in irritation, high pitched in a whine. "I dunno why the Dark Lord is dealing with this now, after all this time. This place is nothing but stones and dirt. No one's been here and no one's stupid enough to come here."

It sounded as though the other agreed for he scoffed and kicked twigs and rocks off to the side. One even bounced off the side of the tree that he had blended into.

"Mark my words, we won't be going anywhere if we're always stuck doing these stupid jobs." The first man said. "Why I'm always paired with you, I haven't a clue. Bah! Let's get this done and over with so we can get out of this blasted wasteland."

"This way, there's another hole about over here." The voices faded the further they walked away from where he was hidden but the camouflaged wizard didn't move until he could no longer hear them.

The camouflage fell, shaking off in bits of dark dust. The hunted wizard fled.

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The contingency of vampires were scheduled to arrive that evening after sunset.

The Dark Lord Voldemort stared out the window of Imperium Hold, his eyes lazily scanning the landscape. Smirking to himself, he surveyed the distant castle of Hogwarts, empty and lifeless as it has been for several years now.

He had the wizarding world in his hands, magical and political power both in his grasp. Contrary to the foolish thoughts of his opponents, he did not bring the world to ruin. He was harsh, he was strict, that was very much true, but he did what hadn't been accomplished by the previous ministers of magic, he brought order.

It had been several years since he and his Death Eaters had taken over the English Ministry of Magic and truth be told, it was all thanks to his ex-mentor Albus Dumbledore. The wizarding world had pretty much fallen into his lap after Dumbledore fled from the country. The elder wizard, the icon of the Light, had scurried away to some far off country to escape the Dark Lord's grasp. That itself had broken the strong impregnable wall of faith that Dumbledore's presence had brought.

The death of James Potter had been a serious blow to the older wizard. Voldemort had heard rumors that the wizard had been training James Potter as a protégé, as his second command, in replacement of yours truly. While Voldemort turned to his dark arts, the Light Lord turned to his followers. Lives, after all, were a fragile thing and easily severed with a wave of the wand.

With Voldemort on the rise in both the political field and in power, Dumbledore worked to train a successor. Albus Dumbledore was slowly moving out of his prime so it was only expected that he would find someone to continue his cause. James Potter had been the perfect candidate, having the characteristics that Albus had tried to cultivate in the figure once known as Tom Riddle. He had failed horribly.

Voldemort had quickly nipped that in the bud, although unintentionally. He had been after Potter's son, after all, who had been the prophecy child to bring the Dark Lord's destruction.

James Potter's death had been a mistake just as his wife's murder was. Now, Lily Potter had been another situation altogether. He had offered to spare her life, if only she gave over her son. She had to have known that she couldn't defeat him and she hadn't. He still clearly remembered how she had died, struck dead by the killing curse, the green of it reflected in her eyes of the same color like a mirror. She had died despite her last words, defiance burning in those hate filled depths only to be wiped away by death magic which severed her soul from her physical form. The triumph of her death had been sullied by her son who had set back his plans by a good couple of months.

Her son had caused him to lose months of planning, not to mention the agonizing experience of losing his corporal form. He had been fortunate that his inner circle had known his worth, of what he could do and the promises he could bring to fruition. He knew, just as they did, that without him their hopes for the future would go unfulfilled. It was with that intent that instead of betraying their cause and running, they had hastened to his side when news of his disappearance spread. Without his loyal inner circle, he didn't know where he and his death eaters would be, most likely scrabbling for purchase in this world that was now his.

Harry Potter. That name had plagued him for several years after that fateful night. He had been beyond furious, ready to turn the wizarding world upside down if he had to. Driven by revenge and wounded pride, the Dark Lord had been ready to do just that. He had been so consumed by hatred that nothing else had mattered, not even his campaign to overthrow the Ministry of Magic. It was a type of inferno that was only doused by one thing: possession of the wizarding world. The minister, the only remaining force since Dumbledore fled, was assassinated and the Minister Elect handed him the very world he endeavored to conquer.

All thoughts of Harry Potter had fled just as swiftly as Dumbledore had, borne on the wings of change and revolution that carried Voldemort to the height of his power. There was just too much to do. The world that Voldemort and his Death Eaters yearned for, thought to be years if not decades in the unclear future, was suddenly within reach.

Many plans had been set in motion to put balance in a world that had been slowly falling apart. Some of them failed, but many more succeeded. Long awaited changes have been brought about; bringing satisfaction to the purebloods that had been slowly overrun by muggle loving light wizards.

The old ways were making a return, customs long forgotten being once again taught to their children. Education had been reevaluated across the country with Hogwarts being the main concern. Hogwarts, while taking claim to the title of having the most scholarly course of study, had been sorely lacking in several subjects. Many of the lesser schools which had followed in Hogwarts' shadow had been in a worse condition. But Hogwarts as it had been was too much of a risk. The castle had too many secrets, many that Voldemort knew but so many more that remained a mystery. Hogwarts was lost to both Voldemort and Dumbledore and if it was not the Dark Lord's possession that it would be no one's. It would be of no use to anyone, Voldemort declared and so it was.

The muggle debate was still in need of a solution but there was no rush as the population of pureblood wizards was slowly on the raise again. The issue about muggleborns had been worked upon.

Purebloods did not want those of muggle descent tainting their lines. That was easily remedied by a marriage law that prohibited the union of a pureblood to a muggleborn unless the pureblood's head of house allowed it. It was not as simple as it sounded for there were other situations and clauses that allowed the marriage between the two, but overall it led down to: an ordinary muggleborn could not marry a pureblood. The muggleborn wizards that had protested this law had caused uproar at its news, but his supporters had eventually stifled the rebellion. It was simply obey or die. Those that opposed him were too weak and too untrained to cause him much trouble without a leader, without Dumbledore. They were just as passionate as Dumbledore had been; desiring equal rights and ways, but their time was past. They became outlaws and unlike Dumbledore, were very easy to capture.

Years had passed as swiftly as minutes. His thirst for knowledge, for immortality, took a back seat to the priority of running a country. At first, thoughts of baby Harry Potter had only resurfaced during the rare quiet times he had away from his followers. Even during those years where he spent every hour of the day planning and putting those plans into motion, he was plagued by the Potter brat. But the world that he had yearned for had been so close... He hadn't let Lily Evan's child stop him once before, and he hadn't allowed it then either.

Over the years, those fixed feelings of hatred, of humiliation whenever he thought of the boy had transformed into apathy and then grew into curiosity as time passed. He just didn't have enough time to spare much thought to something that seemed so trivial compared to the vastness of his kingdom.

His hard work and that of his follower's had borne the fruit that became the current English wizarding world, stable and purposeful.

Sometimes, in the silence of the night, he heard echoes of a woman's voice. She laughed at him, at his foolishness, her voice like bells ringing in his ears. Green eyes bore into his, the Avada Kedavra swimming in their depths, swirling with death magic that flowed from her eyes just waiting to consume him. Wisps of fire framed the pale face that was so close to his. Red lifeless lips pulled into a mocking sneer, before parting, stretching wide, opening beyond that of a normal human's as canines like that of a snake glinted in the moonlight. And pain. He remembered pain, the horrible feeling of something being torn, like bones being ripped from the sockets, muscles shredding and nerves screaming.

Lily Potter had managed to haunt his dreams beyond the grave. Her sinister smile turned his esteemed symbol of the snake into a burlesque parody. His very symbol of pride both the snake and death were turned against him as they haunted him in his dreams.

Often, he brushed them off, although the unnerving feelings remained like a foreboding shadow for days. The mudblood was dead, her body buried in the earth, worms and maggots were her only company now. She was nothing, but bones where ever Dumbledore had placed her body.

Voldemort found it perplexing that Dumbledore didn't take the Potter child into exile with him. His Death Eaters had infiltrated other counties, hunting for the elusive wizard and there were no signs of a child in the hastily abandoned hiding spots. Burnt bits of parchment, and left over cups of still warm tea was the most that his spies had ever encountered. It could only mean that the old man had hidden him away, perhaps in training for what Dumbledore felt was a future duel to the death, a fight between good and evil.

It would be a very typical thing for someone like Dumbledore to do. But why waste such an opportunity to examine the first wizard to have ever repelled the unstoppable killing curse? Voldemort would rather take him apart; disassemble his mind to find what made him so different from the rest. And if the boy felt a little pain, it was of no consequence to him. Voldemort doubted that anything could compare to the torture of one's soul being shredded from its physical form.

"My lord," Lucius' voice came from behind him. He turned to see his right hand man waiting by the doorway dressed in regal blue robes. There was an embroidery of the Dark Mark was sewn in proud exclamation on his robes over his heart. Voldemort appraised his second in command. Lucius had been one of his most faithful followers since his rise as a Dark Lord. While years older than when he had first become a Death Eater, Lucius still looked relatively the same due to the fact that wizards aged much slower than muggles.

Voldemort, himself, would be feeling the effects of time if he were a muggle.

"The vampire ambassadors have arrived. They've sent Lord Malachite and his vassal, Lord Jasper." His voice lowered as though to avoid the vampire's enhanced hearing. "Ah, they... enjoy playing games, my lord." Voldemort raised a brow in question. A slight pink tinged his second in command's cheeks. "They are... deceptive," was all he said as he opened the door. As Voldemort passed him, he heard Lucius grudgingly say, "The little one is who they look to."

The Dark Lord didn't understand what he had meant, but took it in stride as he walked to the entrance hall.

The receiving room of Imperium Hold was a vast space with the portraits of the founders that had been transported from Hogwarts. They hadn't been disturbed in centuries and remained asleep in their frames. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw all slept within their portraits, undisturbed by time and history. The only portrait that remained empty had been Salazar Slytherin's who had never been seen within his frame or any others in Hogwarts.

By his throne stood his faithful inner circle divided into even groups. Compared to when he first took power, the inner circle was reduced. Those who had stood by his side at his first initial downfall were elevated into his trusted council, while those who had abandoned him, those who had sought after their own ambition, were punished and thrown away.

The Inner Circle of the present was stronger, was more trustworthy, and had power over much of what he controlled. After all, a country was too much for one wizard, even a great one such as Voldemort, to control. There were many Death Eater lackeys that would kill to gain even a small bit of trust that Voldemort showed the inner circle.

Besides Lucius, there was only one other that held his complete confidence. She stood by his throne, Bellatrix Lestrange. The dark haired witch had forced the Death Eaters into submission when many had wanted to run so many years ago. She had proven herself beyond a doubt, placing his wishes above her own and her loyalty for him over her own life. He could reward such devotion no other way.

The others that made up the inner circle, but whom were not as esteemed, included Rodolphus Lestrange, Severus Snape, Igor Karkaroff, and Barty Crouch Jr. They waited patiently while another group of veteran Death Eaters led the envoy of Vampires into the hall.

He could read from their faces and the surface of their thoughts that the arrival of the vampires brought mixed feelings. Many were excited, and many worried. He strengthened his shields, cutting the flow of faint thoughts for he didn't want to be distracted when he met the vampire envoy.

Voldemort surveyed the group as he approached them. There were perhaps four vampires, two female and two males. The rest were either slaves or servants which the Dark Lord had no interest in.

The most formidable figure was a man dressed in a black tunic and white pants that were tucked into polished boots. On top, he wore a dark robe that, at first looked black, but upon closer inspection was a deep blue which had intricate stitching of symbols that Voldemort had never seen before. The dark fabric only made the man's skin appear even paler though the Dark Lord didn't think it was possible. His platinum blonde hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders framing striking amber eyes that glowed in the dimmed light of the hall. There was something predatory about this man, about all of them as they stood there so casually. There was a quiet that surrounded them and that bothered the Dark Lord for it gave hint to some strangeness that Voldemort couldn't name.

They were like wolves pretending to be sheep, trying to keep hidden their bestial nature. There was something otherworldly about the figures that watched him, something that humans were incapable of possessing or perhaps simply, they just didn't have the time to attain that kind of state.

The Dark Lord could sense the magic that the vampires had, and it stank of death. Perhaps it was that magic which animated what should have been rotting corpses. It left a nasty sensation in his mind, like that of oil mixing with water, incompatible and unpleasant. And yet, it was desirable, a similar taint to that of the addictive dark magic that coursed in the Dark Lord's own body.

The vampire noble smiled at him, an indulgent smile that showed no sign of the sharp canines that vampires were notorious for. By his side was the most curious of the party, a much shorter figure clad in elaborate royal blue robes, his head coming up only to his stomach. It was a child of maybe six years old, with downy blond hair that looked soft to the touch. He was obviously a noble child, though why they would risk bringing such a vulnerable thing to the world of wizards made little sense to the Dark Lord. He was just as pale as his retainer but his eyes were closed. He was aware though, by the way he was softly nodding and the way his fingers twitched like a frightened bird in the other vampire's grasp. Glancing at Lucius who stood a little to his side, he inwardly grinned at the blond wizard's obvious mistake.

Lucius did have a tendency to flatter those of higher authority to get into their good graces. It rarely backfired and it must have done so magnificently for the blond wizard to be so embarrassed.

Including the vampire child, there was a total of five vampires. Accompanying the two noble vampires was a small group of lesser vampires and servants. Glancing at their pale faces, the Dark Lord could tell that at least three were vampires, two females and one other male. They also dressed in a similar fashion though not as ostentatious as their child-lord. They wore muted colors of blue and black.

Their servants were another matter for they wore more brightly colored garments. He didn't care much for them, was even disgusted by the fact that they were comparable to the house elves that served a wizard's beck and call. Some had scarves that covered their necks while others were bared, usually with pink dots of healing skin where the vampires took their sustenance. Crowded together, they were bright colored figures on display and uncaring of the eyes that scrutinized their worth. To the wizards, they had none.

However, there was one in particular that was different from the rest, a dark haired boy who sat on the floor by the tall imposing form of the vampire noble. Unlike the other servants, his pale skin hinted more strongly towards sickness than the lack of sunlight. From time to time, a fine tremble traveled through his limbs and even his fingers clenched only to relax a moment later. His eyes were closed, silent labored breathes even as he leaned against one of the other servants.

The other servants each wore a golden bracelet which glinted with a small green stone. This sickly one did not. However, hanging from his left ear was a simple earring with a single red gem. Something about the boy called out to Voldemort though he didn't understand why. He was a peasant, a nobody, and definitely not worth his attention, none of them were.

Upon reaching the group, Voldemort fixed his gaze on the vampire who was clearly leader of the assembly.

"Welcome to Imperium Hold, noble vampires of the Shadows." Voldemort said with the inclination of his head. "I am Lord Voldemort, ruler of the British magical community."

The vampire lord's smile grew. Yet, he made a shallow bow, bringing the child vampire's attention as he felt the movement.

"Lord Voldemort. I am known as Jasper, entrusted as guardian of those you see here." His hand took the blonde's, easing him forward. The child's face became blank and polite, an angelic mask of smooth features. "This is Lord Malachite." The boy dipped into a shallow bow as Voldemort watched in disturbed quiet. Jasper continued to smile, laughter in his voice as he explained, "My Lord is going through an ancient rite amongst our kind. Malachite is denied his vision until he has performed his task."

He moved to the side, and gesturing with his other hand and a warm smile, Lord Jasper introduced the rest of the assembly. The vampires he had noticed earlier were guards. "We do not mean to insult your hospitality, but we are cautious creatures by nature," the vampire explained. It sounded more like a jest than a serious matter which is what Voldemort took it as.

"We have been hunted many times and when our nobles leave the Shadows, they must always be protected." Voldemort had nodded in compliance. He, himself, did not need such protection since he had enough power to deal with anyone who tried such a foolish thing.

"This one is named Argenta." A female vampire stepped forward with her gray eyes flashing as she bowed at the waist before stepping back into line. "She is in charge of our guards in the Shadows and has personally come to insure the safety of my Lord. The other two are Griselda and Zephyr, accompanying guards under Argenta's command."

Voldemort acknowledged the underlying meaning. The word that the vampire Jasper had used... "cautious" was an understatement since one vampire was enough to take apart his inner circle. To bring three vampire guards, especially the captain of the guard, spoke more of paranoia, not caution.

It just proved that the vampires were not trusting creatures, even to those who wanted them as allies. It even showed that perhaps they were ruled more by fear than anything. They were taking extra precaution coming into Voldemort's territory by bringing the head of the guards. Voldemort was torn between feeling admiration that they believed him to be such a threat or insulted that they expected danger while he promised protection. The Dark Lord settled with admiration for the creatures. They were not yet allies, after all. If they had not brought their finest, then Voldemort would have thought of them as fools and become wary at the idea of seeking an alliance with them. He did not want weak allies. He would rather kill off the weaknesses than have them weakening _him._

There was much small talk but eventually they were lead to their quarters. The Dark Lord had much to consider, even after just one night of interacting with these dark beings. The vampires were led away to their quarters which were located in the western wing of the castle.

As Voldemort turned to leave the room, he caught a glimpse of the unhealthy servant. Voldemort grimaced in disgust for he couldn't understand why they'd keep such a pathetic servant. The vampires were said to be a ruthless race. They were capable of matching his own brutality in war, or so their opponents have said. The wizard wondered if he could possibly use the sickly slave as part of the bargaining for their treaty. Were the vampires in such desperate need for food supply that they were reduced to using such an unhealthy source?

He wasn't foolish enough to use a slave to threaten them. First, he had so little value and second, bringing down the wrath of a powerful magical race was surely a way to bring about his own destruction. But he knew that this matter opened up possibilities that he could use to negotiate their alliance and the limits in which he can push it.

He did find it odd however, that such a case as that servant's was even looked after.

Voldemort had been warned by other magical allies that the vampires were a breed of their own, different from any other creature have ever encountered. They were not like the bestial creatures that were driven solely and completely by the insatiable hunger. Those vampires were insane with hunger, lacking the intelligence and sentient thought processes that the Shadow Coven possessed. And yet, while the Shadow Coven played human when it suited their fancy, they were not anything human.

They were hated by many for their alien nature. The werewolves, while having fought against them constantly, admired their ruthlessness and yet pitied them for their detachment to humanity. They stood outside time, for while they had some sort of birth, there was no end. And so they watched as others struggled through time, growing, evolving, and then withering once again to return to the very Earth that rejected their undead flesh.

He was told that they were never serious about anything that dealt with mortals. That they played their own twisted games just to pass another year, another decade, another millennium. They were creatures void of emotions, and so, what mattered most to them was entertainment. That usually meant what they called the hunt, the rush that came with catching prey and the renewal of life in their veins from fresh blood.

Dangerous creatures, and now they entertained a possible alliance with Voldemort. With rumors and knowledge of what these creatures were, he would have to tread carefully with the negotiations. Flanked by the inner circle, Voldemort left the hall for they had much to discuss.

The veterans were left behind to take care of the vampires and their servants. Lord Jasper glanced at where the Dark Lord had exited, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. He led the blind child away, following the lead veteran who was a large wizard by the name of Crabbe. Argenta followed behind with quick silent steps, keeping watch over the group as the other robed Death Eaters offered help with their belongings and servants. The other guard had spoken to the Death Eaters, giving instructions as to what their servants required and the like.

Argenta frowned as she noticed the dark haired boy who was currently being supported by one of the older female servants. During their journey here, his condition had been slowly worsening.

A quiet thought came from Lord Jasper as he felt her worry rise. _Hush. Say not a word._ She pursed her lips, feeling the edge of fang on the tip of her tongue. She would remain silent, for now at least. She turned away just as one Death Eater moved towards the group of servants. Catching the other female guard's eye, Argenta silently gave her orders with a twist of her fingers in such a quick succession of hand movements that only the other vampires were able to understand what she did. Griselda nodded in compliance.

One Death Eater had noticed that there was something wrong with the dark haired boy. He was dressed like all the other servants, though he understood that the term was just a polite way of saying food. He pitied the boy, for he was only a boy, maybe younger than his godson who he hadn't seen since the war ended. It was with compassion that he approached the trembling slave, leaning down to ask if he would like to be carried to save up whatever strength he had left. Quick as lightning, the female vampire had stepped between him, causing the Death Eater to stumble back in shock, gray eyes large.

The dark haired vampire hissed in warning, electric green eyes aflame with just a bit of fang showing as she crouched over the slave. With a heavy accent, she warned, "This one, you will not touch!"

Another Death Eater pulled his terrified companion's arm, whispering quietly, "Sirius, don't provoke them." They backed away from the wary vampire, who carefully lifted up the servant. His thin arms immediately circled her neck, laying his head against her shoulder.

The gray eyed Death Eater, Sirius Black, averted his eyes but couldn't help but glance back as the female vampire scooped up the boy with no effort. She pushed sweat drenched bangs away from his pallid face. There was something on his forehead.

Sirius squinted for the light was a bit dimmer than usual for the obvious reason that vampires were sensitive to light. His breath caught. A lightning bolt shaped scar.

The boy was Harry Potter.


	3. The Ground Between Lords and Servants

A/N:And here's chapter 2! Thanks once again to Ann10550 for beta-ing and SilverHineko for listening to my crazed ramblings about my writing :D Also, thanks to all the reviewers, I hope you all enjoy the chapter ^^

* * *

Chapter 2: The Ground Between Lords and Servants

It was in the safety of Grimmauld Manor that Sirius Black found himself gathering his things. Crabbe Sr. had ordered that he, along with several other Death Eater veterans, were to monitor and play butler to the newly arrived Vampire guests.

The House Elves were highly sensitive to magic and magical beings and because of that, they refused to go anywhere near the wing the vampires were settled into. It was a most peculiar thing, for many of the staff at Imperium Hold had ordered them into service and yet they refused. Well, it wasn't that they refused, more like there was some force that kept them from obeying.

No matter how much torture they made the House Elves endure, it was the one thing that the elves couldn't obey.

He grimaced, feeling sickness start to churn in his belly. The House Elves had cried, screamed, and begged even as they punished themselves for being unable to obey the orders. The presence of vampires, the closer the House Elf came into proximity to them, left them weakened and turned the efficient servants into a blithering mass filled with fear.

The vampires were unaware of this reaction that confounded the wizards. Voldemort had been informed, of course, but he was not interested in house elves and waved off the reaction, ordering that wizards were to take their place.

Sirius, himself, had been horrified when that giant oaf of a wizard, Crabbe, had pulled him aside along with several others. With a sadistic grin, he had informed them of their new roles. Anything and everything the vampires desired, he had said. The Dark Lord wanted no mistakes in treating their guests for it could possibly affect the negotiations. If they so asked, the Death Eaters turned servants, were to bare their necks if the vampires wished for blood.

The queasiness in his stomach tightened into a knot at the thought of any of the vampires there feasting on his blood. It wasn't even the pain that he feared, but the very idea that his blood was nourishing another creature. Blood, after all, was the source of life, and was even more so important in a world that could such a unique element to control its source.

Mindlessly, he packed several robes and possessions into his open trunk. Black robes, black robes, and more black robes. Still the thought of being in such close quarters with the vampire guests made him uneasy. He pushed the thoughts away, telling himself that worrying over the matter wouldn't help. He had to obey the orders, at least for now.

Other thoughts added to his worries. His godson was amongst the group that had come with the vampire envoy. And worse yet, he looked sickly as though the vampires had drained all his energy along with his blood. He was just like they had always dreamed him to be in terms of looks, a Potter, James' son with just a hint of Lily in his eyes.

His little godson... the last time he had seen him, he was still a little baby. He had been held in his mother's arms, laughing and giggling, free of worries and hardships, in the way that only children could be. His tiny hands were still pudgy with baby fat and yet the strength that was in them was strong enough to grasp Sirius' finger and pull it to his giggling mouth. His soft black hair had been atrocious, as bad as James' had been, and the very thought made Sirius smile in reminiscence.

Sirius remembered the awe that had blossomed in his chest while staring at the tiny baby. Even before the Halloween incident, he had thought to himself: Harry was a miracle. He made those around him happy, with his small arms reaching out, his green eyes intent and so very clear.

It made his heart wrench to see his godson again after so many years, only because the times now were so unfavorable. Fate would be so cruel to have them meet in this situation, that Harry would be a slave to monsters of the night while Sirius himself was slave to a different kind of monster.

Here he was, Sirius Black, a veteran Death Eater unwillingly serving the very man that had caused his best friend's murder. The Dark Lord had slaughtered poor Lily and James, and orphaned the little boy that was now being used as cattle for blood sucking vampires.

How could fate be so cruel? How much hardship could they all endure?

His hands stilled upon the set of black robes that were being putting into the trunk. Like all the rest, they were the standard Death Eater robes, though more elaborate than the ones in the past. White stitching outlined the very symbol that had one terrorized the people of magical society. Even now, after many years of donning on the robes and seeing the mark of the Dark Lord, he found them grotesque and gruesome. Out of duty, he had worn this despicable regalia, not for the Dark Lord, but for another wizard.

He didn't even dare speak his name, but even so it was that other wizard that he sent silent words of protection.

Behind him, the fireplace came to life, sputtering soot and ash all over the clean floor. Remus stepped out of the hearth, shaking off the dirt from his own black Death Eater robes.

"Sirius, what are you doing?" He came to stand behind him, noting that his trunk hadn't yet been prepared.

Sirius' hands clenched on the folded Death Eater robes. He whirled around to face Remus, gray eyes bright with desperation. "What are we doing...?" he said, his voice strained. His face was an unhealthy pale and his eyes looked to be fevered with hopelessness. It was so unlike the Sirius that Remus was used to seeing.

Even during these hard times, Sirius had persevered.

Remus had frozen at the question, amber eyes widening. He didn't have to ask what Sirius was talking about. The desperation in his voice was clear enough that the Death Eater role was starting to crack the shell that Sirius had been inside for the past number of years since he took up this mission.

The clock chimed in one of the rooms outside. It was two in the morning and Imperium Hold, even at such a late hour, was busy with preparations. They didn't have time for a break down or for a serious talk of morals.

So instead, he gravely whispered, as though afraid that other Death Eaters were lurking just beyond the entrance to the room, "Sirius... you can't give up now. We've worked so hard, not just you and me... but... " Remus swallowed, feeling his throat go dry even at the thought of mentioning the others, of naming them. "Everyone has worked so hard. You can't crack now."

Sirius slumped against the desk where his trunk still laid open. He rubbed his face with tired hands. "I know... Remus, I know."

With a sigh of relief, the werewolf stepped closer to the open closet where Sirius kept his Death Eater robes. "Let's hurry then, they're not all there yet, but it wouldn't do for you to be late." He smiled encouragingly, "This isn't like Hogwarts."

The closet was large and mostly contained the black robes of Death Eaters. Sirius and he were veterans in the Dark Lord's army and so were forced to attend whatever business the Dark Lord required them to, whether it was parties or meetings. They weren't the inner circle though, so they weren't allowed into those parties or meetings. But as lackeys, their jobs were to provide security and most of the time, they were just another fear tactic to keep the population of magical England docile and submissive.

They both hated it.

He picked out some of the robes that looked to be newly made. Some of the robes in there had to be burned, they were unfit to wear for any of the occasion that the veterans tended to.

Behind him, he heard his long time friend shuffle in place, but otherwise remaining relatively quiet.

"I saw Harry." Sirius said so quietly that only someone with Remus' werewolf taint could hear them. Shocked, Remus dropped the robes he had taken out of the closet.

"What?" It made sense now. It had been long years since they first took up this mantle of responsibility, and while Sirius was hurting from the pressure of being a Death Eater, he had gritted his teeth and plowed forward. For James, he always said with clenched teeth. For James.

It had worried Remus to see Sirius react so badly today. He had thought it was possibility that Voldemort was gaining even more powerful allies that disheartened Sirius. Of course, with more powerful allies, the chances of overthrowing the Dark Lord's regime would become harder and harder.

But little Harry?

"Where did you see him?" Remus demanded. It had to be bad news. Dumbledore promised him, he had promised all of them that Harry was in safe hands. It was those brief messages from their mentor that had kept them striving to keep up their persona. Their hands were dirty, stained with the blood of muggles, and there was a darkness in them that being servant to Voldemort caused. While being forced into the role of Dark wizards, their hearts still yearned for the Light.

The promise that Harry was safe was worth it. Their hands would be stained with blood, but his would not be. Dumbledore had promised.

"With the vampires." Sirius said, and it was there that Remus finally saw the source of his deadened state. Blood drained from his face, leaving him pale as realization hit him.

Harry was with the vampires.

His wolf awoke then, disturbed by the turbulent emotions that wracked Remus' mind. He quieted his emotions, feeling the wolf once again curl up into sleep somewhere in his consciousness.

"Everything will be alright, won't it, Moony?" Sirius begged. Remus didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

"It will be, Padfoot," he assured. "It's all part of the plan."

He had lied. He had no idea what the plan was. Remus had only the trust that Dumbledore had earned from him. Dumbledore had promised and when he can, Remus promised to get answers himself.

* * *

"I want him found."

Lucius mentally cringed, but years of Malfoy pride and heritage kept him from showing it.

In his hands, he held several rolls of parchment, all reports made by the number of Death Eaters that had been assigned to accommodate the vampire entourage that had arrived just a day ago. It was information that the Dark Lord had demanded to be ready and yet it was not what was currently occupying his mind.

No, the Dark Lord had other matters that he wanted to deal with.

They were in Voldemort's private study room, a room that none but Lucius and Bellatrix knew the location of. It was somewhere in the castle, but the location of this room was unknown to any other outside of Voldemort's closest followers. To those that dared, there was a portal type door that was created in one of the accessible hallways. It acted as a type of link that connected the door to the room so that others would be able to contact the Dark Lord, but would not be able to find their way to the room. The pseudo-door could be disconnected at anytime and thus, presented no danger in revealing the location of the room.

There were windows in this room, though Lucius thought them to be enchanted instead of part of the actual building. He had seen these walls from the outside of the castle and had noted that they had no windows at all, which led him to believe that the Dark Lord had personally enchanted them himself.

The room was brightly lit from various spells that were anchored in the center of the room. On one of the walls, there was a lit fireplace though only emergency contacts were keyed to its floo system. The walls were bare of any decorations, but were instead filled with many bound books of magical theory and whatever else caught the Dark Lord's eye. Only a world map adorned one section of the empty wall, that was empty of even texts.

The first time Lucius had been allowed in these rooms, he had assessed each title of each book, noting the few that were commonplace and coveting those that were the rarest of the rare.

"Did you hear me, Lucius?" The Dark Lord hissed and this time Lucius' gaze snapped back to his Lord.

"Yes, my Lord." Lucius dutifully replied. It was always best to just agree with the Dark Lord when he was in one of these moods.

He turned to face the map, glowing bright blue dots scattered across its surface. There were several dots in the Americas, but more often were clustered in areas of Europe and even some in the Asian continent. The Dark Lord waved his wand, a red beam striking the map in a position that was very near to their current location.

Voldemort crumpled the parchment in his hands, throwing it a quick _incendio _that burnt it to ash. Anger could be felt rolling off him in waves. "He's here in my domain! The first time in years and those fools that dare call themselves Death Eaters allowed him to escape their grasp!"

"They were punished, my Lord." Lucius told him, and it was the truth. The Death Eaters had been given rounds of crucio for their lack of alertness though it was more to satisfy the Dark Lord than to punish them.

The news did not appease Voldemort. He turned to face his second-in-command. His red eyes, still eery at first glance, commanded his attention. "You, my dear Lucius, will oversee the capture of Dumbledore."

Lucius inclined his head, already envisioning the work pile up, but he agreed nonetheless.

Touching the newly made blue spot on the map, Voldemort mused out loud, "He's refrained from stepping foot into this country while I ensure my hold. There's... something, there must be something. This move seems very foolish, but that wizard, despite his age, is still a master strategist."

"I will bring you the information as soon as I can." Lucius promised. He had plenty of offers to dig up information and even more that would gladly do the work for him, if only to get in his good graces.

That, it seemed, was what the Dark Lord needed to move onto other matters. Lucius did, after all, always manage to get the results that put him ahead of the others. Voldemort's trust and the benefits that came with being his right hand in this stable world was something he refused to lose.

"How are our guests?" he inquired next and Lucius readily handed over the reports, glad to be rid of them.

"They're quiet," Lucius informed him. "We've situated them in the rooms that face away from sun as it rises and sets. Its the darkest wing of the castle and in case those fail, we've prepared each room to be spelled against sunlight and extra protection has been threaded into the draperies. Guards have been stationed for their safety amongst other reasons." The Dark Lord smirked at this, gesturing for more information.

"The ah... Death Eaters chosen were given instruction to provide the envoy with whatever their require, blood included. They've been told to report to Crabbe if any unusual requests or happenings occur."

The Dark Lord nodded along, unrolling the parchments to skim the information.

"And has there been any progress as to what these creatures might want?" he asked.

"We have some ideas, though, it's best to see if the Death Eaters assigned can gather information while they're on guard duty."

"We need to claim their allegiance as swiftly as possible." He frowned, red eyes darting between the parchment and the map. "It may be possible that Dumbledore is on the move because of these vampires' appearance. If he plans to steal their strength from me, I will not allow it."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Severus entered and Lucius felt a stirring of pity for the Potions Master when he saw the Dark Lord grin.

* * *

Severus strode down the corridor, a strong pounding growing in his head at every step. Regardless, he ignored it for he couldn't risk looking weak to any passing by Death Eater. Like trained blood hounds, they would sniff out any tidbit of information that they can used to jeer or ridicule him.

It had been a long time since the Dark Lord had skimmed his mind, and it was instinct forged from practice that saved Severus from being completely comatose at this moment. The Dark Lord had done similar acts in the earlier years, but had become lax in scanning Severus' mind since he came into office. Out of precaution, Severus had maintained his shields and exercised his occlumency knowing that it was one of the few advantages he had over the Dark Lord and therefore, it was one that he couldn't allow to disintegrate from misuse.

He turned into a secret passageway, one that only high ranked Death Eaters knew of. Imperium Hold was a large castle. Voldemort had tried to imitate Hogwarts in its size and complexity, but had failed in some aspects. There would never be another place like Hogwarts.

Instead, it was a castle of immense size and a hidden matrix of passageways and hidden rooms that only Voldemort knew entirely. Severus had had time to explore the hidden routes, and while certain that he knew a good amount of them, was also certain that he didn't know all of them. Studying one's surrounding was the first thing that Severus had done when Voldemort's headquarters was moved to this castle.

Taking out a handkerchief, he wiped at his forehead and face, taking away the sweat that had broken out from his encounter with the Dark Lord. His hands trembled and he forced them to still. Taking in deep breathes of stuffy air, he reached into his pocket, fingertips coming into contact with the stopper of the small protected vials he carried on his person. Feeling for a mark on the edges of the stopper, he found the potion he needed and took it out.

It was a pearly blue, his own concoction that was a delicate mix of calming and healing potion. Opening the vial, he swallowed the contents tasting a hint of mint and something foul.

He paused. There was shuffling down the hall which was unusual. With a quiet disillusionment spell, he waited until he heard the footsteps hurry closer.

It was Black, striding forward in determination and yet somehow looking hopelessly lost. He was muttering to himself, nonsense words that Severus couldn't hear from his position around the corner. Severus froze, stilling every part of his body, even his breathing as Black passed. It was unnecessary as the distracted wizard passed by noisily without even a glance back.

Severus had seen such familiar behavior back in Hogwarts, which meant that whatever Black was up to, it was for no good.

Feeling a curl of anticipation in his stomach, Severus casted a silencing spell on his boots and followed the unaware wizard.

Sirius rounded another corner, holding the small bit of plastic in his hand. It was similar to the marauder's map that was created for Hogwarts, but much more limited. It was a small map that Remus had nicked from a higher ranking Death Eater. It showed a certain passageway leading to the secret peek holes near the quarters where the vampire servants were placed.

He was sure that if he could reach that place, he could find the passageway to the servant rooms. He needed to see Harry, to find some way to get in contact with the dark haired boy.

Sirius had settled into the set of rooms designed for the selected wizards and witches that were to be available for the vampires at all times. He had seen the vampires once, twice, already, but hadn't caught a glimpse of any of the servants.

Sighing in relief, he saw that he was coming closer to the passageway.

He cast the spell,whispering, "Point me Harry Potter!" His wand spun once before stopping towards the right wall. Nearby, there was passageway that wasn't showing up on the card, and marking it in a spare piece of parchment, Sirius turned relying on his luck to get him to Harry.

He walked until he heard voices, muffled through the walls. Looking up, he saw the activation objects that would turn the entire wall in front of him clear as glass on his side. He reached up, grabbing hold of the snake figurine and watched in awe as the wall frosted over.

Then an invisible hand wiped over the surface, clearing it until he saw what lay inside the room.

The sounds were a bit clearer though still muffled.

The servants that he had seen were unpacking, having slept the night before. The scarves that many of them wore around their necks were gone and put away. Some were unmarked, while others were vivid red puncture marks, small dots that stood out on their pale necks.

But Sirius didn't care for any of that, instead scanning the room for any sign of the dark haired youth he yearned to see.

Sirius gasped softly, eyes falling on a sleeping figure, dark head just peaking out from the blankets.. There he was, not so little Harry Potter. The young teen was resting on a couch, a blanket draped over his sleeping form.

"Are you mad, Black?"

Sirius jumped, exclaiming in shock as he whirled around to find Snape standing by the entrance, obsidian eyes triumphant.

Sirius opened his mouth to yell at the other wizard, only to find that he had been silenced.

"Silence!" The greasy git hissed, gesturing with his wand toward the room of servants.

One dirty blonde haired girl was staring at them and Sirius froze. Her gaze was curious and swept over them, but never focused on them. Despite the panic Sirius could feel hammering in his heart, the servant couldn't see them. Her eyes narrowed as she stood perfectly still as though straining to hear something.

Another servant paused, noticing her still companion. "Cas? Is there something wrong?"

The girl shook her head, replying in a confused voice, "I thought I heard voices." She turned to face the other servant. "Aren't there ghosts in the wizarding world?"

The other servant shrugged.

Sirius sighed in relief as they both went back to their unpacking.

Rolling his eyes at the foolish wizard, Severus activated the second serpent figure, watching as the brilliant red eyes of the statue lit. Of course, Black had somehow managed to stumble upon the guest rooms for the servants, had managed to turn the viewing spell on, but not the soundproof spell. IT was exactly the kind of thing that he expected of someone like Black. The finer details had always escaped that thick skull of his.

He sneered in irritation, canceling the silencing spell he had placed on Black.

"What are you doing here?" Severus demanded. He was in a nasty mood, his encounter with Voldemort left him feeling weak and out of control. Antagonizing his childhood nemesis seemed like the perfect outlet.

"Are you aware that if you're caught, not only would the vampires demand our lives for the invasion of privacy, but the Dark Lord would gladly give it?" He told him in a cold voice.

Sirius flinched, but glared at him. "I wasn't going to get caught! If it wasn't for you, the servants wouldn't have even noticed anything abnormal in the first place."

Severus rolled his eyes. It was typical that Sirius Black was anything but serious. To not even consider the possibility of being caught was just foolish. "You fool, if any of the vampires came in, there's no telling what would happen. We don't have any information at all about _these_ vampires. For all we know, they may be capable of smelling your stench through the walls. We're leaving, _now_."

Black looked like he wanted to argue, but it was at that moment that the door opened. They both froze as the servants exclaimed in happiness.

The lead vampire, and his blind lord had entered the room.

The other wizard struggled as Severus covered Sirius' mouth. He tightened his grip on his neck in warning and the other wizard ceased. Severus didn't want to risk being heard. He was completely serious in that they didn't know if certain spells didn't work around the vampires. And he was also serious in that their very presence here, and caught in the act of spying, of all things, could very well lead to their death if not some severe punishment from the Dark Lord.

They were stuck.

Lord Jasper carefully led the vampire child into the room. Like the night before, the elder vampire wore regal robes while the child wore more elaborate white robes.

Protocol or perhaps some sort of obedience training had the servants waiting patiently as the vampire child was guided inside. Severus could read the want and eagerness in the lines of their limbs. It looked like many of them wanted to flock to the older vampire like eager puppies awaiting a treat.

Some of the servants had already started displaying themselves in some sort of freak peacock show, mostly calling attention to their necks.

Jasper dismissed them with a wave of his hand and they obeyed albeit less eagerly, scurrying to the other rooms in the suite.

The child vampire's voice drifted through the walls. "Is he resting, Lord Jasper?" His voice had still not deepened into adulthood yet and so it was soft, the voice of an uncertain child. His hand clenched the older vampire's, but Jasper didn't flinch, instead leading him to sit at the foot of the couch.

It was then that Severus noticed that he was wrong on his assumption. Not all the servants had left for there was still one single form that was unaware of the vampires' presence in the room. He had missed him completely because he had been so focused on Black's foolishness and then the arrival of the vampires. But yes, there was a person there.

Lord Jasper went to awaken the dark haired boy only to stop as the vampire-child made another uncertain sound. "Perhaps we should allow him to rest...?"

The vampire paused, frozen in place. He looked very much like a statue for not even the desire for air lived in him. The lack of response unsettled the vampire child, who started to fret even more. It was fascinating how very like human children this vampire child was.

He reached out a trembling hand towards where Jasper stood. "Lord Jasper, it can wait."

A wry smile curled his lips as he knelt and touched the servant's dark hair. "It cannot." He woke up the servant.

Sirius strained against Snape's hands, wanting to see his godson's face. The vampire lord was blocking their view, but he saw the way Harry's body uncurled. He saw the way the older vampire helped him sit up, murmuring words too soft to reach them. Sirius saw the way the vampire lifted Harry's limp wrist, the blanket falling away to reveal much too pale skin.

Sirius saw the way the vampire lord lowered his head, a glint of fang appearing. He shuddered, for it was longer than that of humans and much more deadly. He couldn't take it. He dug his elbow into Snape's gut, breaking free of the other wizard's grasp. He escaped into the hallway, stumbling from shock and denial.

Severus wanted to curse, but refrained. He turned to chase after the foolish idiot, but not before seeing Jasper's fangs slide into unbroken skin and his blue eyes trained on where Sirius used to stand.

The vampire knew they were there. He mentally cursed Black's foolishness and his own for even becoming tangled in this situation. He fled the room.

Jasper withdrew carefully so as to not tear the skin any more than necessary, but not before tasting the sweetness that was this boy's blood. The blood welled up to the surface, overflowing to slide down his wrist like sweet syrup which he lapped at with a quick swipe of his tongue.

He looked up into unfocused green eyes, half lidded as they watched him. The blonde child had crawled towards them, the scent of blood distracting and igniting the craving inside him. Thin, cold hands replaced his own, the blonde head bending down to suckle the wound created by Jasper's fangs.

Harry groaned, pleasure and pain overlapping and entwining as Jasper stood. The vampire lord observed them with a critical eye. Malachite was so entranced by the taste of the older boy's blood that not even a drop escaped his lips. His small hands gripped Harry's wrist to his mouth with a strength that deceived his childish body. They trembled in rapture, the nails making small indents in the flesh, but not sharp enough to tear.

Just as Jasper was about to separate them, Malachite pulled away with a lick of his lips as though even a drop of blood escaping was insufferable. The wound had closed, irritated pink healing skin knitted together to stop the flow of sustenance.

Malachite laid against the trembling green eyed boy, eyes still closed, but lashes fluttering as though the blood was a drug that had brought euphoria. His beautiful white robes were wrinkled, but were still immaculate. Not a single drop of blood stained them.

Harry slumped against the couch. He was completely awake now and there was no pain despite the fact that Malachite had just fed upon him. The sleeping blonde was outstretched on his lap like a cat, but Harry only gazed up at Jasper.

"There were others here?" His voice was hoarse from slumber.

Jasper glanced at the wall where he had heard the telltale signs of the living, of beating hearts, a sound that was alluring to all vampires and damning to all mortals. It was a plain white wall, decorated tastefully with a portrait of a forest. He did not know much of this wizard world, but he as sure that portraits, even the magical ones they had encountered, did not have heartbeats.

He would remain silent for now, but he will find out who those two mortals were, for there were two that had invaded their imposed sanctuary.

They were isolated here in the world of wizards, separated from the coven that was the Shadows. The Dark Lord that most likely thought himself their future master could try as hard as he wanted, everything here, in these confining rooms, were under Jasper's domain. He let out a hiss that was silent to all, but his kind. Argenta appeared, a flash of darkness that came from no where.

Having already surveyed the room, her gray eyes fixated on her Lord's.

"I have your next task." The smile she gave was frightening.

* * *

The owl that was waiting on the perch was wonderfully trained. Many birds of prey were capable of sensing other more dangerous creatures that often times, Remus found it hard to communicate with the wizards' preferred way of trading post.

Even with such training, the large owl still trembled the closer he came. With slow, deliberate precaution, Remus reached out his hand and offered the owl the treat. Just as cautiously, she reached out, neck stretching slightly to accept.

He quickly, but carefully, untied the letter that he had sent out, but returned untouched. The wards on the letter were powerful, the result of too many days when he worried whether or not his missives had been intercepted. Like all else, Remus had needed to make changes and spell warding had been one of the musts. In those early days when he was still untried and untrusted as a Death Eater, his letters were reason enough for execution. So he had to become well versed in wards in order to keep his written secrets just that, a secret except to those he sent them to. The wards on the letter was unbroken which was a very good sign, but its return meant one thing. Dumbledore was unreachable, at least for the moment.

He dismissed the owl and she was happy to leave.

The letter was very light for its contents only required one sheet of parchment. He inhaled deeply, hands clutching the undelivered post. What did it mean that Dumbledore, for the first time in years, was unreachable?

The first worry that came to mind was that he had been harmed. He dismissed it for surely, if the Dark Lord had managed to capture Dumbledore, he and the others would be nothing, but corpses on display for treason. No, he had to remain calm.

The wards fell away, with several swishes of the wand. The fireplace came to life, the fire roaring with the intensity of his incendio. He threw the letter into the fire. He watched as the parchment burned, paper curling and glowing orange then dying to black ash.

He put out the fire with another wave of his wand, gathering the ashes of the letter. Most of the letter he allowed to be blown away at the window, the wind carrying the ash to any direction it went. The rest he spread around, some being drained down the sink, others smeared underneath the rug and where ever else no one, but house elves would care to check.

After, he was tired. It was a simple process and yet, he could feel the heaviness in his shoulders. He controlled his breathing, hands covering his head as he cleared his mind. Hadn't he told Sirius just recently that they didn't have time for a break down? It was the same for him.

The fireplace came to life, blazing with a suddenness that surprised Remus out of his silence.

Dumbledore's head floated amongst the flames, the bright blue of his eyes, a fiery orange.


	4. To Meet in the Dark

A/N: 5 days later and another update! Happy New Year everyone :D As always, thanks to my beta Ann10550 and SilverHineko *heart* And thank you for everyone who takes the time to review, it definitely makes my day :)

* * *

Chapter 3: To Meet in the Dark

_The night was dark with clouds sailing ahead by the fierce wind. The moon, besides the harsh artificial shine of muggle technology, was the only source of light for the day creatures. Even then, the clouds greedily kept it from them, leaving only whatever could escape to those below. The sun had long ago set, leaving the warmed streets to cool and the creatures of daylight to hide away from the predators of the night._

_The wind blew around him, grabbing and tugging on his garments as though to guide him on his path, but his true guide was not with him. The guide had fallen back, observing his fledgling with cool eyes that took in every movement he made. The small child shivered, though he didn't feel the biting cold of the wind, no, it was because this night was the night. _

_He spread his arms wide, as though to welcome the freezing wind, but was welcoming the change in his life. With a small smile, he imagined his guardian watching with inquisitiveness, attributing his useless actions to his still childish delight in being away from the nest._

_He fell from the tree limb that he had been standing on to observe the quiet town._

_Even from so far away, he could hear the slow, faint, sluggish, beating of sleeping hearts. It would be easy to lure one of them to him. It would've been preferable for his first night out. He was still so new to this world, so similar, but vastly different from home. The thought of home distracted him for a moment. His eager brothers and sisters, who like him, were on their hunt. He imagined Mother, usually cold and void of life, swelling with pride at his first hunt._

_A warning came to life in his mind, a small bud that glowed warm, but could burn. His guardian did not appreciate his dalliance. _

_He ran, though if he had an audience, it would have looked like his feet never touched the ground. His guardian didn't understand the rush that he was currently feeling. It was his first hunt, his first. He threw back his head, wanting to feel the moonlight bath his face and the wind carry him forward._

_It was time._

_He could feel his guardian's approval as he prepared to do just that._

_There were so many around, he could hear them as though their heartbeats were the brewing of a storm. Why had they been taught caution if hunting was so simple?_

_He paused. Quiet breathing, whispered words, and unclear thoughts like sparks of fire. Prey._

_The guardian stirred as the fledgling child changed course. Too many nights, he had been ensconced in the safety of the nest. This was different and he wanted it._

_Ahead, a figure stood in front of an abandoned building, but he was not there. Confused, the fledgling waited. There was someone there, but it was like his eyes just did not want to focus on where he knew the man stood. The fledgling could smell the man's frustration in his sweat so where was he?_

_He was there and yet, not. Coldness blossomed inside him. His guardian. He could see the man now. It was so strange that he could not before, but that no longer mattered._

_The fledgling's hunger rose again. He could almost taste the slide of thick juice in his parched throat. His fangs ached and he almost approached the stranger, eyes aglow and wrapped in his still budding power, not yet trained, but trained enough for this._

_His body stopped moving. Foolish, his guardian whispered, his will controlling his body. The fledgling agreed before casting his power out like he was taught, flinging it like a net around his prey. The lines were so thin that their power went unnoticed._

_Stepping onto the ground, he marveled at how strange it was to feel the solid earth beneath his boots._

_The fledgling wondered what he looked like. The guardian laughed, amused. He saw himself then, figure slight, hair as dark as the night sky and skin as pale as the moonlight. From the image, he also knew that his guide was very near indeed._

_His prey called to him, the very beating of his heart like the sound of sirens._

_The hunger was building the nearer he came to the source of that lovely sound. _

_He played his part well. He lured his prey and all too soon, blood, rich and life giving, was spilling into his mouth. _

_It was delicious._

_

* * *

  
_

The Dark Lord Voldemort was given the information that one of the main troubles that plagued the vampires was boredom. It was ridiculous to think of it, but Fenrir had laughed long and hard during one of the Death Eater meetings.

It had been a serious meeting for the Dark Lord seemed to be experiencing a worsening in mood as the days continued. Only a few really understood why that was.

But yes, a meeting had taken place sometime after the arrival of the ostentatious vampire lord. While many of the Death Eaters gave plausible examples of what could be offered in the negotiations, Fenrir had caused a mess.

In his tattered Death Eater robes, he had risen from his seat, slamming a hand down upon the table to gain everyone's attention. The Dark Lord was displeased and it was obvious in the curl of his lip as he stared down at the mutt.

Severus couldn't believe the stupidity that managed to survive the war, but Fenrir had always been a loud and careless oaf. He had brazenly suggested that above all else, the Dark Lord should appeal to their boredom.

With a devil may care grin, he drawled, "You wizards haven't known about them until they decided to peak their heads out of the caves they've hidden themselves in. But the weres have been brawlin' with them for years, since before wizards first picked up a stick and called it a wand."

"Well then, Fenrir, what is it you suggest we do?" Lucius demanded in disdain. "Put on a magic show like the muggles do? Little card tricks or the like? Are we to debase ourselves for their entertainment?"

Fenrir snorted, making Lucius recoil at such an uncouth behavior. Bellatrix, sitting at her master's side, openly laughed, tossing her dark hair back at the ridiculous question. "You don't understand them, no one understands unless it's your own kind. They're bloody _bored._ Do you think they'd even look outside their nests if not for that? They don't give a rat's ass what _we_ do, it's what _they_ want to _see_ that lets them drag their corpses outside their little dark corner."

Irritation rising, Lucius was about to draw his wand when Voldemort's spell flew between them, hitting the wall with a startling sound. They both fell silent.

"I did not call this meeting to hear my followers squabble amongst themselves." He glared at them both, wand still ready. They both cautiously sat back down, Fenrir shooting the other Death Eater dirty looks and the blonde ignoring them.

But what Fenrir had said did make sense in some sort of twisted way. The vampires, or at least the Shadow Coven, was a mystery. They seemed to have everything the Dark Lord wanted, strong fighters, beauty, and above all else, immortality. Why would they have risked becoming hunted? Could it really have been boredom?

Regardless, the Dark Lord arranged entertainment for it was what a host was supposed to do anyway. Lucius had been put off that Voldemort had listened to Fenrir after all, but managed to redeem himself by orchestrating an event that built upon the werewolf leader's idea. The little magic trick was obviously unacceptable, but Lucius had arranged an event that pushed the Dark Lord's goals further.

A dueling tournament amongst wizards. Not only that, but several of the contestants were seasoned fighters and of course, there weren't any weak wizards in the event. Disguising their monstrous nature, the vampires were beautiful in form and they had a physical prowess that was different from the savage werewolves. They were sharp and graceful, like a blade cutting cleanly through the air.

Voldemort wanted to demonstrate their own strength through magic. He wanted the vampires to be awed and fearful of their magic.

Severus, while he was a formidable opponent hadn't been chosen in the list of those participating. His style was effective, but not the kind that the Dark Lord wanted. He wanted glamour, the burst of spells as they came to life, lethal as they sped to their opponent. He wanted deadly, and Severus was that in a duel, but he dueled with a precision that transcended the desire to show off.

It was just as well, for Severus was already much too busy, something the Dark Lord was not aware of despite the fact that it was he who had given him so many tasks.

All throughout the week, he had tried to confront Black to demand information, but Black was surprisingly a slippery fiend when he wanted to be. Severus had no reason to approach him, he wasn't even in charge of the group that Black belonged to. It would look suspicious to approach him so Severus had to bid his time.

Instead he planned to meet with Potter, for that was surely easier than trying to gain access to Black. At least Severus had a reason to speak to the servants that obeyed the vampires' whims. He did, after all, have a task to dig about for information from the servants, if only because the guards were incompetent when it came to gathering intelligence that was actually important.

Days later, the event was finally prepared. The vampires, while declining many of the invitations for dinner, were forced to politely accept. Severus felt that this day was best for approaching the servants.

Of course, he had to get permission from the vampire lord first. And so, he found himself making his way to the wing that the vampires had taken residence in. He had been here barely a week ago, chasing after Black. He hoped that the vampire lord, Lord Jasper, would not entertain anyone, but the Dark Lord or his messenger.

He wanted to avoid contact with Lord Jasper out of fear that perhaps their abilities extended beyond hearing. The last thing he wanted was to be identified by scent and be taken to the Dark Lord who would surely be happy to discipline him.

The guards that stood at attention at the vampires' wing were imbeciles. Scanning his memory for their names, Severus found that these Death Eaters were of lower rank than the ones usually stationed in these position. Yes, these two were pretty much part of the faceless recruits that had joined shortly after the Dark Lord's victory. Despite that, they hadn't moved up much in the ladder of Death Eater ranking. If his memory served him correctly, they had even earned Voldemort's wrath with some mess up in a previous assignment.

He didn't have to read their minds to know that they resented their roles. Vampire-haters, perhaps. Their eyes were fixed on the entrance to the rooms instead of any possible intruders. They seemed more wary of what may come out of the room than what may come in. It was because of that that Severus was able to startle them with a well placed minor stinging hex.

Such were the benefits of being in the inner circle, they were able to deal out punishments for the lower ranks as they saw fit. They cursed, but immediately shut up when they saw him stalk forward. He was notorious for his bad-tempered attitude and being part of the inner circle guaranteed that he was untouchable to these idiots.

With an evil eye, the guards returned back to their duty, focusing more on what they were supposed to do instead of their fears. With eyes averted, they let him pass to enter the wing where the vampires were settled into.

Luck was on his side. The vampire that had answered his calling was one of the guards, the male named Zephyr. His glacial blue eyes made Severus extremely uncomfortable, but it was better than meeting Lord Jasper.

Severus stated his question and got a very unenthusiastic reply in return. It was clear by the vampire guard's monotone answer that he didn't give a damn what Severus wanted. But the Death Eater didn't care since he was just following protocol anyway.

The day the event took place, Severus had informed the Dark Lord that he would be speaking to the servants and he did.

It was a disappointing event. The servants, while eager when they heard the knocking, became crestfallen when they realized it was him. He realized right away that the Potter child was nowhere to be seen. He was still forced to remain and dig up any information he could grasp. It was for himself and the Dark Lord he did this.

It was like dealing with the same sullen teenagers from Hogwarts who weren't allowed into Hogsmeade. It was only because the experience was so similar that Severus still managed to get some information instead of none at all.

The blonde servant that had heard them was named Cassidy. She was the most talkative amongst the group of slaves though in comparison to normal humans, that still wasn't very much. The other servants didn't care to give any information. At first, he had thought that it was their master's wrath they feared, but after talking with many of them he came to another conclusion. Perhaps, the servants had no care for interaction with anyone that was still living.

None of them were willing to divulge any information of what they called "home" except that it was a wondrous place. Severus doubted this very much and wanted to attribute their perceptions to the star struck look they had in their eyes when they talked of their masters. But when asked, they were even more tight lipped about their masters, though Severus wasn't so surprised at that.

He had asked the blonde girl, "Do they hurt you?"

She had laughed while the other servants twittered like birds. "They bite, of course that would hurt." Then she sighed dreamily. "Oh yes, they love to bite."

Severus couldn't quite conceal the disgust in his expression, but she just giggled. "You're clearly a _virgin_." At his outraged look, she laughed again, "I meant, you have no experience with getting bitten. It's.. it's indescribable!" The other servants chimed in with agreements, one even trying to go more in depth at the rush of feelings when bitten. Severus endured it, listening dutifully, but becoming more and more convinced that many of the servants here had fallen victim to the vampire poison that increased as the feedings became more frequent.

After a while, Severus was convinced that he would get no more from them. The sun was still a few hours away from rising but already, the slaves had dropped hints that they wanted to be left alone.

As he left the room, he wondered to himself, _where is Harry Potter?_

He checked the time. The Dark Lord had made other demands of him besides information gathering. Severus was the best potions master in the Dark Lord's higher ranking service and it was because of that, that he was experimenting with potions. His research, for the time being, was a combination of a shield and repellent potion to block out the sun. It was obviously for the vampires.

The Dark Lord felt that it was one of the best solutions that they could offer the vampires. A completely fail proof potion that would nullify their sensitivity to sunlight. Severus thought it was dangerous, but the Dark Lord demanded it.

He decided to stop by the potion garden, a garden that the Dark Lord had created the same year he demanded Severus to move to Imperium Hold to be at hand for whatever potions he needed. He had been paranoid that first year, refusing the generic potions sold at stores. He had become even more so paranoid of the ingredients used and built the garden that now comprised of many rare and dangerous potion ingredients.

Only Severus, the Dark Lord, and a few selected others for maintenance were allowed into those areas. He needed one of the plants there. The timing of his latest project required the ingredient to be freshly picked for at least a few hours. After the third hour, the freshness of the plant became corrupted and the essence of it would change the potion completely.

There was a small figure laying spread eagle in the middle of the field, amongst the patches of growing mint.

Severus felt irritation rise upon seeing the intruder. There was no one in the Dark Lord's service who was foolish enough to enter the Potion Master's sanctuary. With quick, silent steps, Severus stalked towards the figure, wand already drawn for punishment.

The boy reached out a hand as though to catch the artificial sun that was spelled above the garden. His arm then fell across his face, shielding its light from his eyes.

Severus knew the moment the stranger heard him for he sat up with his back facing the approaching wizard. It was only then that Severus recognized the flamboyant clothing, a sparkling blue that belonged to only one group of visitors. There was a silken scarf of a darker color that wrapped around his neck, only further confirming his affiliation.

The Dark Lord's warning throbbed in his mind, but he ignored it. This was just one lowly slave and regardless of the Dark Lord's desire to appease the vampires, there were still rules.

"You there, boy!" Severus barked. "What are you doing here?!"

It was then that the boy turned, emerald gaze locking with his. Lily's eyes.

Surprised, Severus could only stand there with his wand still drawn.

"Sir?" The boy stood and he was so small compared to the healthy adolescents that attending the nearby school. The words of anger that Severus had been ready to hurl like curses died in his throat.

Despite his plans to make contact with Potter, Severus had thought that it would be on the terms he decided. To meet so abruptly after his plans had failed was surprising, but the former spy recovered quickly.

This was even better than he had hoped since there were no other slaves around to distract either of them.

Severus had thought that when he came face to face with the Potter boy, that he would be reminded of the late Potter senior entirely too much. His task, he believed, was going to be a hardship, one that he'd be forced to grit his teeth to and practice endurance.

He found that it was not. That frail creature he saw in the vampire's rooms was nothing like the arrogant and insufferable bully that James Potter was.

It was his much loved Lily that he saw in the boy. Yes, he could see the blend of his childhood nemesis in the child, in the line of his nose, and the blackness of his hair. Regardless, this young man was Lily's son.

The green of his eyes were hers. The wave in his hair that anyone, but Severus, would've contributed as a Potter gene, yes, that too was hers. The smooth pale flesh, instead of the sun kissed tan of James', was hers. The shape of his lips, and even the way he bit his lip, while impossible to adapt from his deceased mother... all remnants of the bright young girl that had been Severus' light in the dark.

It was too much of Lily that he saw in the child and James' ghost could do nothing, but fade away as he stared at Harry.

"You..." He began before his occlumency shields instinctively slammed down. There was a clumsy tickle that indicated someone trying to skim his thoughts which was what caused his shields to react so strongly. But it was just him and the boy here.

The boy frowned, "Who is Lily?"

Severus composed himself. Lily's child or not, the situation was clear. This young teen was somehow, despite all of... that wizard's efforts... enslaved to the vampires which meant that he had undergone what the servants had undergone.

"Can you hear my thoughts?" Severus demanded, deliberating making his voice harsh in the way that made his former students cringe. Lily's child grimaced, a mild reaction compared to the fear Severus provoked.

He gazed up at him, biting his bottom lip in contemplation as though he wanted to say something, but thought it better not to. The Death Eater understood that fear of his master silenced his words.

Severus needed to be calm, of all things. He pushed away the anger, but held onto the displeasure of doing so.

"Never mind that. What are you doing here? These plants are delicate and most important." He would have to research more on the results of ingesting vampire blood, but the best source of information was right in front of him.

Relaxing one of his shields, he probed the boy's unprotected mind.

Severus eased into his mind only to find something akin to a mental desert. Memories were like flimsy shades, unclear and muddled with fog. Half in Harry's mind and still aware of his physical self was disorientating and an action that only masters of the mind art could possibly perform without going insane.

A vivid memory came to the surface, and like a dam breaking, the trickles of memory only intensified. At first, he could hear a woman's voice though the sensation was unlike anything he felt before. Her voice spoke in his mind, soothing and jumbled. He couldn't understand what she was saying. Then something cool was pressed to his lips. Warm, thick, liquid slid down his throat, putrid and a thousand times fouler than any of the potions he ever created.

He wanted to wretch. He pulled away swiftly, cutting off the onslaught of memories from the boy until the only remnant of vampire blood was its lingering taste. Potter was touching the side of his head as though feeling the oncoming of a headache.

Had he gone too far? Even with nausea threatening to break his control, he still had to distract him. "Come, you need to leave this place."

He grabbed onto the teen's wrist to lead him out of the room. Maybe he can hide him away in his rooms. No, no, that was too foolish. The vampires, while uncaring of wizards, may possibly be offended with the theft of something they believed to be theirs.

He could not afford for eyes of any kind, wizard or vampire, to be drawn to him.

Harry cried out in pain and immediately, the startled wizard dropped the boy's wrist. He brought his hand close to his chest as though to shelter it from any more unexpected pain. It was only then that Severus saw the bite marks. Twin angry punctures on the pale wrist that he had grabbed.

He remembered. The vampire child had fed on him those few days ago when he had discovered Black trying to stealth around the guest rooms.

That had been a few days ago though, but for the pain to still linger... He had been fed on, and recently for the bite to still be so fresh.

Someone fed on Lily's child. He had known it, but still, it made him take a deep breath to calm the rising emotion.

"Why isn't that bandaged?" He was relieved to hear his own voice free of outrage, but dismayed that it had come out strained as though he were being choked.

The boy shivered, replying, "It would only be a nuisance."

Severus' heart wrenched. A nuisance. Of course. Why bother dressing and repairing that which may be removed in several hours or at worst, minutes. "I shall take you to the stationed healer. She will mend that for you."

The boy just shook his head, refusing even the care of a mediwitch. He then looked up towards the nearby tree, a magical tree that bore fruit only twice a year.

A vampire dropped out of the tree, not even a rustle of leaves to herald her appearance. She landed crouched between them, graceful like a feline. Her sharp eyes flickered briefly towards Severus, but just as quickly dismissed him. Instead she addressed Harry, gazing at him in a way that made Severus want to stand between them.

"Malachite calls." She held out a hand, and the boy took it easily. In a move so quick that Severus had to think about it, the female vampire had looped his arm around her neck, and hooked his legs around her waist to carry him on her back.

With the servant astride on her back, she cocked her head as she considered him. Then before he could protest, she jumped over him.

They were gone in a blink of an eye, with only the boy's whisper of goodbye fading in the wind.

Harry sighed against the guard's neck, smelling the earthly scent of her homeland on her skin. Underneath that was the smell of soap, clean and refreshing, but beneath even that smell was the scent of corpses.

He breathed in deeply. "That one was Severus Snape," Harry whispered against her neck. Even pressed so close against the guard's back, he couldn't feel any warmth between them. That only meant that she hadn't fed yet. Despite that, he was unafraid since the coldness was a comfort to him.

Griselda murmured a question, her voice like the breeze whistling through the leaves in his mind.

A fit seized him then, and his body shook as he coughed against her, hands covering his mouth. He pulled them away to see specks of blood.

She paused in the hall. The smell of blood, even such a small amount was distracting, but all she did was wait. It was quiet except for Harry's coughing which eventually quieted though she could still feel the trembling as he fought against it. Eyes focused to the door ahead, she asked, "Do you require anything?"

Harry's only answer was to tighten his grip on her neck, his hand slipping down to press cool fingertips on the flesh above her unbeating heart.

_Take me to Malachite._

She did.

* * *

It was in the dead of the night that Remus carefully led Sirius through the holes in the wards of the Forbidden forest.

All too soon, Hogwarts loomed in front of them. She was a sight, still so magnificent though the Dark Lord had ravaged her beauty. Many good things had happened here, things that could never be fouled by the Dark Lord's touch, but there had been many horrible memories here also.

The security around the castle had been lax after the first couple of years. Inactivity had convinced patrolling Death Eaters that this place was now dead and it was for many reasons, true. Only Dumbledore, who was so closely affiliated with Hogwarts, would return to this place.

That had been a month ago. Now security was stronger than ever. No one knew why except for those in higher ranks and those that had been punished. Remus could guess what happened. After all, no one wanted to be punished like the previous guards had been.

Sirius drank in the sight of Hogwarts, feeling the beating of his heart surge. It had been so long since he felt this feeling that life was worth living. He almost felt like himself again, though he could still feel that cowering persona in the back of his mind. The fresh air was making him dizzy, or was that the sense of freedom making him feel that way? Voldemort's mark of slavery was still branded on his arm and yet, he felt as though he could transform into his animal form and run wild like he hadn't since James had died.

Giddy with excitement, he followed Remus' lead carefully. The Dark Lord had begun to remove the tattered wards around the castle to set up his own. The process was painful and time consuming for the simple reason that Hogwarts had so many of them. Each layer of warding had been strengthened from past headmasters and then there were the ones that were not as old, but still anchored tightly to Hogwarts. Even the first few years, the wards to the castle had remained standing though they were incomplete from the damage they suffered. Now, years of constant weakening and the loss of its true headmaster, had caused the wards to wither away in such speed that it was heartbreaking.

Soon enough, they reached their destination. They were in an empty clearing, but it was the right one.

"I don't understand how _he_ could take such a risk to come back here." Sirius said as he ducked underneath a low branch. "And I want answers, Moony. I swear in Merlin's name that if he just twinkles at me, I'm gonna shove my wand up his...!"

"Sirius!" Remus exclaimed aghast.

Sirius grinned. "I'm just kidding."

"Well, you know he has tried his best." Remus frowned. He couldn't help, but roll his eyes when Sirius grunted in irritation.

Sirius turned towards Remus, a protest dying on his lips as he felt someone dig their wand into his back.

"Don't move!" A voice commanded.

Remus froze for he could see the tip of a wand, but nothing else. Panic bubbled in the corner of his mind. He had heard no one, had smelled no one. How did someone manage to sneak up on them?

"Who are you two?" the voice demanded. Whoever it was, it was male. He sounded too young to be in the Dark Lord's service, it was either that or he was just newly initiated. But if that was so, then what would a young Death Eater be doing in this area? And why use their wand against senior Death Eaters for that is what they were dressed as.

"Remus Lupin and Sirius Black." Remus answered with a snarl that gave away his werewolf heritage. "We're from the Dark Lord's guard and have been given orders to check the security."

The voice snorted, and then it was like something was stripped away to reveal a red head that could only be from one family.

"Weasley?" Remus was stunned.

It had to be the youngest boy for he was still wearing the Academy's uniform. Remus believed his name was Ronald. The Weasley family had fallen into obscurity since the war had ended. Molly Weasley had fled the country with her youngest after Dumbledore fled, but her husband had remained with their sons. Two of the grown boys were no longer in England either, but the rest had remained.

Lucius, who had despised the family with an enmity born of a blood feud, had pretty much declared them as a social leper. It was only through the next eldest son, Percy, that the family had any standing at all in a world shaped by dark wizards.

The young man, Ronald, held onto something and it was only then that Remus realized he had been using an invisibility cloak. Of course! How many times had James caused mischief with that thing? Too many to count. The only reason he hadn't suspected it before was because those things were so expensive and rare to find.

"Yeah." he affirmed, though he still stared at them warily. "_He_ wanted me to come get you two. There's been a change in guard schedules and… here I am."

The boy stepped back, though he didn't put away his wand. Sirius whirled around, irritated at being used as a hostage.

"How did you know we were going to come now?" Sirius demanded.

The Weasley boy, Ronald sighed. "I've been waiting here for a bloody hour." He motioned them to follow him. "Come on, let's go before we're caught for real."

"Where are we going?" Sirius demanded. Ronald turned to stare at him, a pinched look on his face.

"You're really going to make me say it?" He demanded in return, although it was more to himself than an answer to Sirius. "Dumbledore is waiting."

They entered castle with Ronald as their guide even though this place had been their home for seven years. Outside, Hogwarts looked haggard and uncared for, and the inside was just as worse. The windows remained untouched, covered in grim and undisturbed by humans. They passed by the Great Hall, a spacious room that was once filled to the brim with bustling children and watchful teachers, but was now a mess of broken furniture and forgotten memories. They had to carefully maneuver their way through, avoiding the broken limbs of chairs and moth eaten table cloths that lay discarded and haphazard on the floor.

Beyond the Great Hall, the rooms were in better condition, though not by much. The debris and dirt had been cleared away, freeing their path of any obstacle that would otherwise be a hindrance. They reached the Headmaster's statue, the gargoyle that had been protecting the passageway lay in a crumpled heap of ruble at the base. They carefully made their way past, stepping over steps that had fallen in, until they finally reached their destination.

Albus Dumbledore sat at his ruined desk, looking as though he had never left. Sirius swallowed hard for it could have been just yesterday that he and the marauders were forced to speak with the headmaster about a prank gone awry. But the times had changed.

Sirius looked around the room, taking in the devastation that the war had wrought. The headmaster and headmistress portraits that used to look down upon him were empty, the frames lifeless. The many books that were shelved in strict order were missing, or scattered about in torn pieces. The room had been ransacked, trinkets and gadgets that must have been kept by the headmaster, discarded or destroyed. And yet, the last Headmaster of Hogwarts still sat in his chair as though his home had never been touched.

"Sit," Albus gestured to the neat chairs that had been conjured in front of the desk. Remus ignored the command, instead approaching the desk and saying clearly, "Sir, we want to know what happened with Harry Potter."

The Headmaster looked up at him, the blue of his eyes tired and worn. "Remus, if you may take a seat, I will explain as best as I can." Nodding to the Weasley boy, he said, "Mr. Weasley, I believe Ms. Granger is in need of assistance in the library."

With a huff of irritation, he left, grumbling to himself. The werewolf reluctantly allowed Sirius to pull him down into a seat. His brown eyes glinted with impatient and Dumbledore wished he had some of his lemon drops to offer. The elderly wizard always felt that sweets were able to calm the nerves and relax those who came to see him. It was such a pity that he hadn't been able to stop by to purchase some.

"Headmaster, you know how important Harry is to us. Why is he with those bloodsuckers?" Sirius started by pleading.

Seeing no point in withholding the truth, Dumbledore simply answered, "Because I placed him in their care."

Dead silence reigned between them. Then Remus' fist crashed into the already broken desk with his werewolf strength, a creak warning them of the desk's waning resilience. Dumbledore remained calm, looking all the more like a parent staring down at his defiant children.

"I don't... why would you do such a thing?" The confusion turned to anger. "You put him in the care of monsters!" Remus screamed. All the stories of the vampires swarmed in his mind like the buzzing of bees. He himself had never faced their kind in the werewolf battles, but he had heard so many stories. There had been too many similarities of their gruesome ways that he could not ignore.

Remus refused to lessen what Harry must have suffered through by ignoring what he did not want to acknowledge.

Sirius mumbled to himself, "I didn't think he would do such a thing... We trusted you." He rubbed at his face, feeling tiredness overcome him. He was tired of everything, the war, the darkness, the way he had to lead his life to survive. He was tired of being helpless, of people who were family to him being taken away from him. He was sick of it all.

And still, Dumbledore patiently waited for their outburst to subside. "It was the only way," he stated matter of fact. "The vampires are the lesser evil between them and Voldemort. They would have used him, but what of Voldemort? He would have slaughtered Harry even as a baby. It was the vampires or Voldemort, which monster would you have chosen?" He ignored the way they flinched at the Dark Lord's name, instead gazing at them with clear blue eyes.

Remus lunged forward, snarling as he hauled Dumbledore up with inhuman strength across the desk. "We are _not_ leaving Harry with them. We are taking him away," he growled. "He may not mean much to you, Dumbledore, but he's our best friends' son. Even if he wasn't that, you yourself have called him the savior of the wizarding world!" He shook the unresponsive wizard. "You cannot let him stay there where Voldemort would surely find him!"

Dumbledore gripped Remus' wrist with a strength that defied his age. With steel in his voice, he said, "It was never my intention to leave him. Why do you think I'm here now? Do not drown in your anger or your actions will be rashly decided."

Remus glared into the Headmaster's eyes while Dumbledore calmly returned his gaze. Sirius stood up, placing a hand on Remus' shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Remus... We can't change the past. If Dumbledore has a plan, and he always has a plan, then things will be okay. We just need to focus."

Dumbledore beamed at Sirius, exclaiming, "Precisely! The more time we waste bickering amongst ourselves, the more dangerous it becomes for dear Harry."

Reluctantly, Remus released the elderly wizard, but Albus grabbed his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I understand, Remus, my boy. Your fear of the vampires is what makes you angry, but we can save him still."

He drew his wand, casting a spell that conjured a parchment of a building most familiar to the veteran Death Eaters. Pointing with his wand, he pressed it against a wandering black dot that was clearly labeled _Harry Potter_.

"This is our goal." Dumbledore declared with beaming eyes.


	5. That Which Cannot Be Seen

A/N: I think I have decided how many chapters LtOW will have :D .. Unfortunately I've also decided there's going to be a .. pending sequel. :D Oh well, for now, Chapter 4! *heart* to Ann10550 and SilverHineko :D

Uhh... for those that clicked it and couldn't find this chapter... Sorry about that! Thought I posted the wrong one xD Enjoy~

* * *

Chapter 4: That Which Cannot Be Seen

The vampire knelt to the ground, head bowed and subservient in every way possible.

The creature that stood in front of him gazed at the form of her servant with merciless eyes. She looked around the hall, locking gazes with her children before they all hastily looked away. No one would meet her eyes. Emotions were a element of her character that had long since withered away, but in that moment, she felt a brief sense of satisfaction.

Again, the male at her feet called her attention with a reverence that was fitting of her rank.

Countless before him had been in the same position, obedient and willing to do all that she commanded. It was the way of things. His sleek black hair, which reminded her of obsidian, was tied in what she assumed was the fashion of humans. She wouldn't know of that world besides her children who were still so eager to learn of the outside, the world of light.

What was his name, she vaguely wondered. She knew his family, for it was hers, but the faces of even her children became blurred in the passage of time.

The wizard had left just moments ago. He was not welcomed, but was given safe passage for what he came for. He had come forward to their lair to negotiate that which he claimed to have given them. He had been brought before her, but he was unworthy. He smelled of light, of the outside world, and she despised that. She cared not to speak to him and her children had hastily moved to remove the mortal from her presence. And then he spoken the one thing that stolen her attention.

Before he had finished uttering her lost daughter's name, she had her hands around his neck, hissing with elongated canines. Her children had fallen away in shock, they had never seen her react so vehemently, not in a long time.

Saliva had pooled in her mouth, the thought of revenge brought her to life. With anger and grief that only a suffering mother was capable of, she had spoken in the tongues of mortals, the Latin falling from her mouth like a damning decree. The wizard's eyes had grown large, like that of a deer about to be slaughtered. His wand was pressed against her breast, but she didn't care. She laughed. What could this mortal do against her?

The wizard left with his life, but nothing more.

It had been so long since a mortal had visited her domain, her world away from the lightwalkers. Her life, compared to the endless monotone existence she had drifted in before was changing so fast now. Her daughter's life... slain like a mortal. She could not forgive.

It was a strange feeling, this ache. The burning in her heart intensified until she felt like she had swallowed the sun. The sun. The son. Her son. Her son was in the mortal world. She had lost her beautiful daughter, would she lose her beloved son? No. No. No. He was ready. He had to prove his worth, he was ready to do her will.

If she lost him? Her heart hurt, so much that she wanted to claw at her chest and rip it out before it burst. Instead, her pale hand shot out, grasping at those obsidian strands of her servant. He was also her son.

Casimir. Yes, that was the name of this one. He was also her son, but he was alive. He would live, he knew of mortals and their ways. He had convinced her to send her beloved son away.

With a quarter of her strength, she backhanded him. He flew through the air, slamming into the walls of their home. There was a sickening crunch of breaking bones before he fell to the floor like a rag doll. Blood, precious and aged, pooled around his broken body.

Her children cried out in shock, but not one had gone to their fallen brother. They watched with trembling uncertainty, eyes fixated on the petite form that was Mother. Mother had never been this infuriated since her daughter died just a few short years ago.

Casimir coughed, but she paid him no heed. It was just a small sufferance that she dealt. It was nothing compared to her fury, to her anger, to her suffering. These emotions, thought to be long dead, were alive after all.

Her voice echoed in their minds, painful like the shrieking of a banshee. Her suffering was so immense that it drowned out their will. The children cried out in pain and reached out to her in love and torment.

With nails as sharp as her fangs, she slit her wrist, the precious black blood falling to the floor as she stalked to her broken body of her son. Her screams faded though they echoed in the minds of her children. She was once again the emotionless empress. Her blood slid down her pale arms, staining the beautiful fabric of her dress.

She held out her arm, the drops of blood falling from her wrist. Casimir felt the drops of Mother's blood fall onto his face. Like a dying plant thirsting for rain, he opened his mouth, feeling his injuries heal as he swallowed those drops.

_**My son**_**.** She demanded, her eyes a dark void. _**Bring my son home to me.**_

The healing only took a few minutes, but even as Casimir laid there broken, he bowed to her will.

She left them and dreamed of her son who was so far from her reach. She saw the curve of his lips as he softly smiled, his pale porcelain skin, his strength, and his vulnerability. He was at such a crucial stage of development for one of their kind. She regretted letting him venture outside when no other childe was allowed outside the nest. She regretted.

She whispered, commanding her words to reach her wayward son, to fly past the boundaries of the walls that held the nest. _**Come home, beloved one. Come home to mother.**_

* * *

Bellatrix flinched as the spell went hurling past her. Beside her, Lucius held so very still, frozen like a mouse that sensed a nearby snake. Another bright blue dot blossomed on the map, another indication that Lucius' failure and his inability to complete his latest task.

"I want... that bloody Dumbledore found!" Voldemort snarled, shoulders heaving as he glared at the map. Bellatrix approached him, cautiously laying a hand on his shoulder which he angrily shrugged off. Worried, she let her master fume and rant, becoming even more crestfallen the longer he raged. It had been a long time since Voldemort lost control like this in front of his followers, but then again, it had it had been just as long time since his nemesis was last seen.

The Dark Lord whirled to face them, dark robes swirling dramatically behind him. He pointed his wand at Lucius who only bowed his head.

"You. Why haven't you found him yet?" Voldemort demanded. "It has been _weeks_ and _he_ is still out there in my domain!"

Lucius avoided eye contact as he explained, "My lord, the traces we have found of him are scarce. He must have connections here to be so well hidden."

Voldemort stalked forward, thrusting his wand beneath Lucius' chin to force him to look up. "Well then, Lucius, you must do _better_. There must be something we can find out. I want to know why he's here now and what he means to achieve."

Glancing between the two wizards, Bellatrix's thoughts whirled in her mind. She and Lucius had never been close despite their allegiance towards the Dark Lord Voldemort. She so hated to see her master so upset, but she also knew that her dear sister would become distraught if anything were to happen to her husband.

She hastily stepped between them, having the privilege to be the only person able to interrupt the Dark Lord and not be punished for it. With his face contorted in an ugly mask of anger, he stalked away from them, putting away his wand.

"My Lord, maybe it's best if we try all the old trails." She licked her lips as Voldemort looked up to glare at her. "Perhaps... perhaps... what about Severus, my Lord?"

"What do you mean, Bella?" Voldemort threatened.

She had noticed lately that Snape had been acting strangely. She had wanted to find out what was causing his behavior, but she needed something now to turn her master's anger away from them. Wondering if it was for the best, she continued anyway. "Severus has been acting most strange lately. Perhaps... perhaps he knows something."

"Are you accusing me of being unable to know my servant's true allegiance, Bella?" The Dark Lord warned and Bellatrix whimpered at the thought of being placed under crucio. It was not the pain that would devastate her, though her body would clearly show the affects of it, but the very idea that her master was displeased with her.

She moved so quickly, falling on her knees to clutch onto his arm. He stared at her, his ruby red eyes piercing. "No! No, of course not, my Lord!" She begged, "But Severus is a true Slytherin, this you know. It may be that he might be simply withholding information until it is useful to him." She demurely lowered her eyes. "It is every wizard's desire to have an esteemed place in your council."

Voldemort considered her words. In the silence, Bellatrix despaired, thinking of how displeased her master was. Then Voldemort touched her dark hair with a gentleness that she had only felt once before from her mother. She exhaled in relief, feeling as though his absolution for her careless words was worth any amount of crucio.

"You are my most trusted Death Eaters." Voldemort stated, "Bella, if Severus has come to your attention due to these changes in behavior, I entrust you to find the meaning of them."

She looked up, pride and determination shining in her gray eyes. "Of course, my Lord!"

He faced Lucius with a hint of displeasure. "Lucius, you have not failed me before. Continue with your work and pray to Merlin that you find something."

* * *

Ever since Severus had found out that Harry Potter was in the vampires' hold, he had tried to come up with a sure proof plan that would get him far away from here as possible. The plan had to be effective, it had to reliable, and it had to avoid as many risks as possible.

But the truth of the matter was that the entire situation was all risk. Just spending time with the boy in the gardens was enough risk that if the truth was revealed, he would surely be placed under crucio until he was a blithering mass of nerves and no soul. It didn't help that... that wizard... was avoiding communication with him at all costs. He was literally on his own, and for a situation so dire, Severus had to make due with whatever he could do.

The first objective was to establish some sort of relationship to the boy. It would be beneficial to him anyway he looked at it. He needed a way to gather information, one that would appease the Dark Lord into leaving him be. He could also use that information to benefit himself, of course. Who knew what valuable secrets the boy may be unknowingly carrying of the vampire world?

This task was simple enough. The first thing he investigated was why the boy had been in the garden in the first place. Since he wanted to keep this tidbit of information from the Dark Lord, he didn't approach the vampires with his inquiries. Besides, they would have already known if one of their guards had so easily tracked the raven haired servant to the potion garden.

The answer too was one so simple that it had, at first, baffled him. After witnessing the boy's actions a second time, Severus found that the illusion of sunlight was strangely enough to draw the boy back to the garden.

The entire garden was not as heavily warded for some plants that grew within were sensitive to the use of magic. The others did not know of this though. Severus had relied on the Dark Lord's wrath and the Death Eater's ignorance to ward off trespassers from the garden. The Dark Lord's wrath had been enough, but was obviously ineffective when it comes to those outside his circle.

Severus didn't inform Voldemort, for it was the easiest way to gain access to the vampire slave that was supposed to be the wizarding world's savior.

It took a few days for Severus to catch Harry in the garden again, but the connection he desired was easier to forge than he thought. He had had doubts, since having experience with the other vampire slaves; Severus wouldn't be surprised if Harry showed no interest in speaking to him. Due to that possibility, Severus had come up with a list of things, short as they may be, to bind the boy's interest to him. His mother, his father, even his wizarding heritage that he may not have been aware of.

Seeing the boy sprawled in the same position as before, he felt some sort of relief to see that at least he had an interest in that which the vampires despised; light.

Without anger clouding his actions, Severus had watched the boy stare blearily at the source of light. Like before, he reached up with a pale hand as though to capture it.

Harry stretched out his fingers, memorizing the way the artificial light filtered between his fingers. It had been the first time that he was able to walk so freely and so unafraid of the light. It was warm, unlike anything he ever felt like before. Even the warmth of fire couldn't compare to this. Fire could easily burn, and so, it's warmth was like a warning. Sunlight, even this artificial thing, was warm in the way that flesh was after the vampires fed. It was comforting.

He was feeling better today though the coughs still wracked his body. Even though it didn't feel like it, Harry still knew his body was weakening. This was just a small respite before his sickness worsened.

A wizard stepped out into his line of vision. It was Severus Snape. He wore a similar uniform like those that guarded the rooms to the vampires and their servants. He was an imposing figure, his gait smooth and controlled. Harry couldn't help, but compare him to the company of vampires. Physically, the two were very different for vampires were conditioned into a beauty that was enticing and alluring so that prey easily flocked to their arms. This dark haired wizard seemed to only take care of his appearance until it was above acceptable.

There was something about his movements that reminded Harry of the vampires. He smiled to himself as he realized that they both shared a confidence that shone through.

Severus carefully approached the boy, but there was no need to treat him as though he were a frightened bird. Just as he predicted, the boy didn't care one bit for his presence.

The dark haired teen sat up, watching Severus with those green eyes that he thought he'd never see again. They were like green pools of wariness, like the first time he had met Lily as children. "Are you going to banish me from the place?"

The way he demurely looked away, as though shy of rejection made Severus pause for the way the words was spoken was strange. They were, like the rest of his stance, spoken in apprehension, but Severus could feel a hint of rebellion, of mocking. Even if he was to impose such a rule, the boy would find a way around it. It was a strange combination and he didn't know what was causing it.

Maybe, even with his admittance that the boy was unlike his father, he still imposed the image of James on the boy and therefore, every word from the slave's mouth was insolent and mocking. He shook off the notion for when had he ever made such a mistake? Perhaps life with the vampires made the boy bitter and distrustful. Life in general had molded Severus in such a way after all.

Regardless, Severus would have to play a role that would gain the boy's trust.

With his own benign expression that he had practiced countless times before in the mirror, he replied, "I see no reason to. I'm sure this isn't your first visit." He made a point to look around the garden, as though inspecting the plants. "The garden seems to have withstood your attentions."

Harry smiled, though it was an expression that trembled on the edge of crumbling. He turned away, facing the magical tree that the guard had hidden in the last time they had met.

Severus tensed, expecting the arrival of a guard like last time, but the boy only said, "What do you want?"

The wizard didn't expect the boy to pick up on the subtleties of his world. It surprised him, but it wasn't so farfetched for the boy to develop this sort of mentality, especially in the vampire world. Based on his observance of those creatures, their dealings outside of their own people seemed to be strictly business. Their interactions were based on what can be offered and what was to be given. Growing up in such an environment was harsh, but possible.

And yet, there was a nagging feeling that only grew stronger the longer he watched the boy. He pushed it aside. He needed to play his role perfectly for this was perhaps the only chance he could.

He disliked this way of doing things, it was so open and honest. He was never sure if the other party was returning that honesty, and had always been even more so wary of making deals in this fashion. But the boy had already asked, and required an answer. He frowned in distaste, wanting to conjure a chair or something, but didn't want to risk the growth of any nearby herbs.

In lack of response, the boy turned once again to face him, his expression a careful blankness that looked strange on a face that looked so much like James Potter's. He sat in front of the boy, but even with this action that was supposed to give the vampire slave a sense of equality, Severus was still able to look down upon him.

"The Dark Lord requires that I learn about your world," Severus decided to say. "In return, I can tell you of the wizarding world." He would have to use this card, for he didn't want to bring up the boy's parents, especially not Lily. She was a subject too sore for him still. He wanted to keep even her memory protected and his alone. "This world... is also yours, Harry."

Startled, the boy appraised him with disturbed eyes.

* * *

Vampire Lord Jasper whispered into his master's ear, the small child listening intently to words that no one else was privileged to hear.

These rooms had been cleared of any eavesdropping spells, even those that Voldemort had implanted himself. The reason for this was their lack of knowledge when it concerned vampire abilities and of what they were sensitive.

Lord Malachite's expression became even more troubled as though he was not pleased. This did not bode well for the negotiations. Voldemort closed his eyes, crushing down the annoyance that bubbled within him. These vampires were such difficult creatures and it irritated the Dark Lord to have to treat them with such respect when he knew next to nothing about them. That and his ego was demanding that whatever negotiations they manage to draw must favor the wizards more than these arrogant monsters.

With a cheery smile, Lord Jasper folded his hands above the tabletop. "Malachite has pointed out that the use of this... Daylight potion you claim to be researching would be futile for us."

Voldemort's jaw almost dropped. Were they serious? At his right, Lucius protested the statement, raising his voice to catch their attention. However, the vampire lord ignored him, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Voldemort. The vampire child tilted his head as though listening to a far distant sound, but was otherwise unaffected.

The Dark Lord breathed in once, calming himself as best as he could. By his side, Bella's eyes darted between the two leaders, a disturbed smile curling her lips as she watched Lucius try to argue his point. His right hand man was a politician above all else and in any other situation, Voldemort would have trusted his wisdom and skill, but these vampires paid no attention to the blonde wizard.

Raising a hand to silence Lucius, Voldemort leaned back against his chair, regarding the vampires with suspicion. "How can it be futile, Lord Jasper? Surely, the limitation of the sun would best be eliminated," he said darkly. "Would it not be best if your kind is able to walk in the light of day?"

"It is true, that the rays of the sun prohibit us from walking during the day." Jasper tamely agreed. "But how many of us will you see awake in the day? It is our time of rest, even if we are awakened during those times, we are incapable of doing much."

Malachite laid a pale hand on top of his guardian's. "It is true." He nodded his head, blonde hair falling into his closed eyes. "Vampires are most vulnerable during such times, it would be unwise to travel or be seen in such a state." He tilted his head as though he could see the gathered inner circle. "The option is always beneficial, but it would encourage much foolishness." He paused as though considering his words then carefully said, "It would not be a necessity."

Voldemort tapped the end of his wand against the smooth wood of the table. "If you are found during your rest, what would you do? If your shelters are burned to the ground and your resting places brought to light, what would you do?"

Lord Jasper smiled, lips widening to show the sharp points of his canines. "Dear Voldemort, for one to find our lairs and homes, we must have spies. From where would we have spies? And we have more to our numbers than the undead, we have the living under our thrall as well. Our homes are well protected even without the stain of wizard magic."

Voldemort's expression did not change though what the vampire lord divulged had much information that they had previously been unable to confirm. Even this little scrap of information was helpful in their cause. However, it still did not answer one thing.

"Then what do the vampires desire?" Voldemort demanded.

Malachite paused as though hesitant. Lord Jasper glanced at his silent Lord before replying, His smile only grew wider, the cheery expression turning almost demonic in its joy. "Information on this... Dumbledore."

Beside him, his most trusted followers stiffened in surprise. Voldemort hissed, a dangerous tint in his eyes. "Why?"

Many thoughts crowded in his mind, and none of them were helpful. What could the vampires possibly want with Dumbledore? His thoughts drifted in silence as though all other negotiations had been shocked into obscurity.

Now that he thought about it, hadn't there been traces of Dumbledore making his way to what could only been the location of the Shadow Coven? The last floo location that the ex-headmaster has visited had been an abandoned castle in the outskirts of a stagnant town. The Shadow Coven's location, while still a mystery was thought to be in the area.

Dumbledore was a powerful wizard even in his current age. The only reason Voldemort could deduce for searching someone out was for two reasons: an alliance or treachery. What could the vampires possibly want with that wizard?

And the fact of the matter was that Dumbledore had made an appearance here in Britain after years of remaining hidden. Could his return and the vampires' desire to make themselves known be a coincidence or were these events entwined in some plot that he couldn't yet see?

Lord Jasper watched them with amusement. Malachite's hand gripped his arm, as though wanting to leave, but his vassal remained unmoved. The air that hung between them was filled with tension, and on Voldemort's side, a crackling hostility started to build.

"We have business with him." The vampire simply replied.

"What business would this be?" Voldemort hissed. If he had been a wizard or even a muggle, Lord Jasper would have clearly understood the danger he was currently in. Voldemort's wrath had lost much of its act first, think later attitude after years of comfort as the victor of the war, but it was still deadly, it still demanded harsh retribution. The Dark Lord's wrath was met with something else, Lord Jasper's anger.

Disturbed, Voldemort watched the transformation from the human persona the vampire played to undead Lord he really was before his very eyes.

The amusement that the vampire lord wore melted off like rotten flesh from bone. Coldness seemed to seep into his flesh, traveling to the muscles of his face. There was a frigidness in his features that seemed foreign after being so often acquainted with his harmless, fang-less, smile.

His tone matched his eyes then, the normally warm amber chilled, darkening as they gave way to the blackness of his pupil. His canines, while not any longer than previously seen, seemed to obstruct his speech, but his words were still clearly heard. "This is not the concern of mortals."

His ward tugged on his sleeve with worry, but Jasper ignored it, sharply pulling away his arm so that the child's hand was left hanging. It floundered there for a moment before the vampire child pulled his arm back into his lap, remaining silent.

The vampire stood, his form seemed towering and the shadow that stretched behind him like that of a monster's. "If we choose to share our reasons, then we shall do so. It is as I said, it is not the concern of mortals, but perhaps... if it suits _her_ fancy to indulge your whims, you shall have your answer." He performed a shallow bow, the coldness not quite dissipating, the formality simply a ruse. He held out a hand to his wary ward who took it with the same uncertainty that they had seen the first night the vampire envoy had arrived.

They left the room with Lord Jasper paying careful attention to his the vampire child who remained stiff and wary. After their departure, Voldemort still had no answer to his thoughts on what the vampires really were and where their desires lay.

* * *

Today, Harry was looking even worse than he had the last time they had met. It was unlike him to show some concern, but it was worrisome. Harry's condition, whatever it was, was deteriorating. Now, Severus was a potions master, not a mediwitch, but often the two intersected for potions were used in many treatments. It was through his own study that he found out why certain plants were generally used in healing potions.

They had met several times now and while each moment was too brief for Severus to gain a substantial amount of information, the meetings together had helped the other boy to get more comfortable with his presence. It also helped Severus to get a better understanding of what Harry himself was comfortable with. The small bits of information, while many were trivial, were like pieces of a puzzle piece that he couldn't quite make out yet. Much of what he learned was, sadly, information about the boy himself. His masters, like the other servants, were a touchy topic to him besides the generalities.

However, any information was useful in some fashion.

For example, Harry continued to refuse to see the mediwitch and Severus could get no answer from him as to why. It irritated him beyond belief that such a boy could be so stubborn. He dared not call any other attention to the boy, not to the other Death Eaters, and certainly not to the Dark Lord Voldemort. It was enough that Black knew about the boy. It was also a miracle that the boy hadn't been discovered, especially with Black's big mouth. He hoped that the man, after years of finally learning the realities of life, would be able to keep his mouth shut.

Severus had to keep Harry Potter a secret as long as he could.

The boy was sickly, even more so than when he first arrived. His frail form shivered even with the warming charm that Severus had casted on him. And the Death Eater did not appreciate the way the boy had tried to hide his coughs, as though he could hide such an ill boding sound from him.

Harry's aversion to seeking the help of a medical witch gave Severus the opportunity to treat him himself. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a potion that he had added to his vials that he carried. He had especially brewed this blend for the symptoms he could see affecting the boy. Coughs, weakness, and fever. The lime green coloring of the potion sparkled in the light.

Taking into account the paleness of the boy's skin, which was beyond unhealthy, he decided to add the current potion with an additional blood replenisher. He had just a few days introduced this particular potion to the boy, and the results of the potion were seen within the first few minutes of ingestion. Severus believed that perhaps, the servants most often _used_ should be taking these potions to prevent anemia.

He offered them both to the boy and Harry took it though he gazed at them in distaste. Since he was more familiar with the ruby red potion, he picked it up first. Sighing slightly, he uncorked the blood replenisher, swallowing half the contents in several gulps. Afterward, he licked his lips as though rating the taste.

"It tastes as awful as ever," he concluded.

"Of course. It replenishes the blood." He eyed the pale skin again though there were no signs of bites this time. It discomforted him in more ways than one. Humans, especially wizards, were so accustomed to being superior to others that it was a strange idea indeed that they would be used as cattle. Not only that, but this was Lily's son... he couldn't fathom her anguish if she could see him now.

"You must drink it all." The potions master instructed because the vampire slave eyed the bottle in distaste as one would to a bug.

Severus needed the boy to drink it. Undetectable, and hidden within the blood replenisher's properties was a soothing elixir, one that relaxed the mind and the tongue. What he was going to ask next, he may not get an answer to if the boy had been fully aware. All the servants shared a reluctance to talk of home and Severus hadn't brought up the subject yet in case the boy followed the trend. Had he rejected offering the information, the soothing elixir would have seemed strange and intrusive.

It was better to apply the potion first, and use it to get the answers he wanted. All he had to do was thread carefully in a manner that his questions flowed accordingly so as to not make the boy think too hard of what he was answering.

The boy swallowed the rest, his lips turning downward in dislike. He ignored the green healing potion and instead relaxed against the trunk of the tree. Severus hated to have his instructions ignored, but the crucial part was over with. He had drunk the tainted potion. The potions master counted to a minute with a precision that came from stirring potions.

After the potion took effect, for the boy's unhealthy tinge brightened somewhat, he asked his questions soothingly as though talking of the weather.

"Had you ever taken such a potion before?" Severus gently asked. His deep voice was an aid to him now, as it was hypnotic when he wanted it to be. Harry's eyes had drifted shut, his breathing falling into a steady pattern. Unfortunately, that was one of the symptoms of this particular elixir. It hadn't helped that it had been added to a blood replenisher. The blood that replenished his body carried the drug. This way of delivering was very potent and it was also why it took such a short amount of time to take effect.

Harry mumbled, "No, we have no such things at home. Maybe herbal remedies, but we don't get harmed much often."

Severus nodded indulgently before asking carefully, "Are your needs met at home?"

"Yes, they try very hard to please us," he sighed.

"Do they call for you often?" The boy's face scrunched up a little as though confused by the question. Severus felt an inkling of panic, and quickly rectified the question by asking, "Your masters, do they call for you often?" Harry's puzzled expression only worsened and Severus mentally cursed, decided to fall back.

Before he got a chance to speak, Harry answered, "Masters? You mean Mother?" Severus licked his suddenly dry lips. This was interesting, no one had ever mentioned "Mother." He felt as though he was on the verge of discovering something.

"Who is Mother?" He whispered, trying so very hard not to disturb the frail daydream state that Harry was now in. The slave smiled, stretching out his legs like a sunbathing cat.

"Mother is beautiful," Harry confided dreamily, "Her hair is like sunshine, though she has forgotten what it looks like. Her eyes are like the blue of the sky or... or like sparkling water, and her smile is sad. Mother..." He sighed as though the very thought brought him happiness.

"Yes?" Severus urged, leaning closer to absorb every uttered word.

"Mother..." The boy whispered, the term uttered in such reverence that it disturbed Severus, "Is everything." His eyes snapped open, and Severus, who had leaned so close was shocked to see the sharp greenness of his eyes. The slave's hand flew forward, grabbing onto his robe collar with still weak fingers, but the emotions that roared in his eyes were anything but weak. "What was that?" He demanded, anger rolling like thick clouds over the confusion. Severus pulled away, alarmed, as the slave pushed himself up, glaring at the Death Eater with a fire in his eyes. "You... you drugged me!"

Severus wanted to object, but looking into those green eyes, Lily's eyes, he found that the fault was entirely his own negligence. He bowed his head in what looked to be regret while his mind raced. He was never good at apologizing, and he doubted that the boy would believe it even if he did. So Severus fell back one of his best developed skills, lying. He needed to somehow execute this impromptu acting with perfection especially since his life depended very much on whatever information he could squeeze out of the boy.

Adopting another one of his ex-mentor's expression of contrite, he met the boy's angry eyes, whispering, "It needed to be done, Harry." The boy flinched at the use of his name, but was otherwise firm, holding his anger close to surface of his mind. Severus licked his dry lips, feeling as though the boy could see through his masquerade, but he was a perfect spy. His life depended on the credibility of his lies.

"I needed to learn all I could," he continued. Severus remained where he stood, not wanting to overdo his act by crowding closer to the boy. "Have you forgotten what we last talked of?" He let his fingers tremble just a bit to make it seem as though he wanted desperately to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder to form a connection. "You are a wizard, and you are Harry Potter." He fused his gaze with the boy's, letting the seriousness of the situation settle like a weight around them.

"You are also a slave to the vampires, who may or may not become our allies." He casually said. "It was necessary, don't you see? To free you from their hold, we must gain whatever information we can."

It was not the words that Harry wanted to hear. Observing the wizard in front of him, Harry could easily understand why the Potion Master had risked such a stupid action. He was still angry, oh yes. Harry promised himself that he would not allow himself to fall into such a situation where Snape could easily ensnare him. But there was something interesting about the Death Eater's words that intrigued him.

Harry surprised the Death Eater with the offering of a dark smile. "You are assuming that I want to be freed."

The stare that the wizard gave him was hard, dark eyes looking at him as though seeing an entirely new specimen, one he wasn't sure he wanted to use or throw out.

Snape opened his mouth to protest, only to feel something heavy knock into the back of his head. His vision went out of control, the image of the boy in front of him splitting, then merging back together. The last thing he saw was Harry's surprised face and the way his eyes darted behind him. He fell forward into the awaiting darkness, struggling, but failing to remain conscious.

There were two figures that stood behind the unconscious Death Eater. They were dressed in dark robes, a black material that copied the Death Eater ensemble except the skull and snake emblem was lacking on the right breast of the robe. The hoods covered their face and Harry could only make out the shape of their chin and their mouths as they spoke.

One moved forward, casting a quick status spell to check on the unconscious wizard's vitals. An audible sigh was heard as he turned back to his companion, making his displeasure known before he drew his wand, stalking over to the only entrance of the door.

The remaining wizard stepped closer even as Harry tried to scramble away. Harry's eyes darted between his unconscious companion to the intruder. Urgently, the stranger tried to explain, saying, "With Snape knowing, it wouldn't be long until the Dark Lord finds you. We don't have much time, Harry, we need to leave!"

He pointed his wand at Harry. With remorse he said, "I'm sorry to do this, but we thought it was best. Your mind is twisted by the vampire venom. We have to do this."

Harry tensed, but his muscles were still weakened from whatever it was that the Snape had slipped into the potion. It had been a tricky maneuver, for it wasn't the first time that Snape had given the blood replenisher to him. It had not tasted any differently, but he should have known that it was foolish to have trusted the other Death Eater.

"_Stupefy_!" The second called out, a wand aimed at him. Harry rolled, crying out as he strained his relaxed muscles that didn't want to move. They felt sluggish and heavy.

Another stupefy flew at him, and Harry was helpless. He cried out before the darkness took him.

* * *

Lord Jasper smiled, a very different smile from the last time they had held negotiations. It no longer fooled the Dark Lord or his inner circle when the vampire smiled in such a way. At the table, representing the vampires were the usual figures of Lord Jasper and Lord Malachite. Representing the Dark Lord was Voldemort himself, his right hand man, Lucius Malfoy and surprisingly, another figure that the vampires had not personally been introduced to, Rodolphus Lestrange who was Bellatrix's husband. The vampires were aloof by the change of people. However, he had been warned enough so even he knew of the vampire's dual nature. Voldemort and his Death Eaters now had a better understanding of the mind games that the vampires like to play.

"This daylight potion you mentioned before," Lord Jasper began, "We have decided to accept its trade as one of the components in the negotiations. Now you must state your terms for this price."

Despite the good news, Voldemort was not pleased for the vampires had decided to skirt around the issue of Dumbledore. He no longer trusted them. Well, he never had, but now he had a more solid reason not to. The Dark Lord had given further incentive for his guards to find out more information. The crucios were a wonderful motivation to obey orders, after all.

Lord Jasper sat relaxed, ignoring the way the mood had shifted because of his words. His ward, Lord Malachite was uneasy by his side. Voldemort had become accustomed to the vampire child. While the slaves and Lord Jasper himself had affirmed that Lord Malachite was the true leader of the group, Voldemort had noted that he seemed to show no incentive to take up that mantle. Then again, vampire children, perhaps like the pureblood wizarding family, were more like heirs. It was necessary to train them, even more so to have them experience the intricacies of social life, but were still novices that needed guidance.

If such was the case of vampire children, Voldemort would have loved to be able to assert his own influence. He watched the way Lord Jasper's eyes constantly glanced to the blonde child. It was such a pity that the vampires seemed so protective of their young to the point where Lord Malachite was never seen without Lord Jasper.

Lucius glanced at his brooding master before unrolling the parchment that contained some of which they had decided to negotiate for.

In the midst of naming their terms, a small cry came from Lord Malachite.

All eyes snapped towards the small child by the vampire vassal's side as the small blonde whimpered. His small hands gripped the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white. Lord Jasper abruptly stood, coming to kneel in front of his ward. His hands grabbed onto the child's face, forcing Malachite's head to bend towards his.

The child's face was scrunched up, his angelic features twisted in pain. He was breathing hard, starting to hyperventilate in a way that was alarming. He was making more helpless noises now, pained and confused.

Lord Jasper scooped the child up, his strong arms holding the convulsing body close. His hand hid the boy's face against his shoulder even as he thrashed. Malachite's small hands uselessly clawed at Lord Jasper's back, his whimpers muffled by the older vampire's shoulder. He stalked towards the exit of the room in an alarming speed. It was so fast that by the time Voldemort and his Death Eaters had risen, he had already exited the room.

Lord Jasper had taken his ward into the hallway when the child started screaming. The little whimpers could no longer be stifled.

The child stiffened, feeling the safety of arms around him, but it was not enough. The inferno that was eating at his mind could not be stopped by this simple gesture. Spine arching, Malachite's eyes snapped open, dewy lashes lifting to reveal opaque eyes, a flimsy white layer that covered the colored pupils. He continued to scream, tortured sounds of agony until Lord Jasper forced him into slumber. Even with the compulsion, the child's body was still wracked with terror.

Lord Jasper carried his ward towards their rooms, undoing the buttons on his elaborate robes. He balanced the child in his arms, using one hand to swiftly remove the much too restrictive clothing of wizards. A dark suit, similar to the vampire guards' shown underneath. Argenta and her subordinates met him on his way, already aware of the situation and responding fast. It was to Griselda that he handed over the trembling form of Malachite, along with the robes he had discarded.

The three vampires moved with a feral prowess, their lithe forms traveling the distance that would take them to their prey. Their hate simmered like boiling water, and beneath that, the roar of adrenaline as blood pumped through their veins, their unbeating hearts singing of the hunt.


	6. Twilight and Her Secrets

A/N: really late... but couldn't be helped. I've hit a snag where I've lost interest in writing but hopefully I can start this up again :o Anyway, thanks to Ann10550 for betaing and SilverHineko for being awesome :D

* * *

Chapter 5: Twilight and Her Secrets

With the child safely in her arms, Griselda retreated into the vampire quarters. The servants that had been waiting there patiently dispersed like a flock of frightened birds. They disappeared into the spare quarters, worried eyes glancing at the blonde in her arms. They obeyed her silent command, making themselves scarce.

Even forced into sleep, Malachite's hands clawed at her suit, trying to grasp someone who wasn't there. Gently, she pulled his hands away, using her other hand to smooth away soft blond hair. She murmured to him quietly, knowing all the while that her words wouldn't reach him. Like a human mother, she rocked him slowly, holding him close to her cool flesh.

Something like that would help, just the smallest amount. He would have to hold out until the others returned. Malachite gave a small whimper and Griselda could do nothing, but continue holding him.

Closing her eyes, she wished she could join the others.

The vampires had tracked down Harry's scent, leading them to the garden that he had last been seen in. There was no Harry there, but they did find something else, a wizard.

Lord Jasper and Zephyr waited patiently, their glowing eyes watching as Argenta softly pressed her fingers against the pulse of the unconscious wizard's neck. Beneath her fingers, she felt the steady strong beat that indicated life. It was tempting to just lean down and sink her teeth into the flesh. The anger inside her was consuming and it simmered in all of them. The wizard had been with Harry and wasn't capable of protecting what was theirs. They had, after all, come to this castle under the impression that they would be safe. Even with her instincts whispering of sweet hunger, she didn't bite him. Crouching over him, she sniffed his scent, smelling human sweat and something else. She looked up, her gaze locking with her companions. The way her lips curved was a mockery of smiles for it revealed sharp ivory fangs.

They chased the scent of one who was theirs.

Through the labyrinth that was the castle, they moved so fast that the wizard that watched them fly past had no idea what they were. To the fresh night air, they went, hair streaming behind them in a rush of color and darkness. Their minds whispered to one another, their words and thoughts flowing together and intertwining.

Be swift, take flight. Must find him, the one that is ours. This way, hurry.

* * *

_Nimble fingers passed through his hair and he could feel the sharp point of nails as they skimmed his scalp. He knew this touch, had yearned for it despite the pain that that hand could inflict. He still hungered for it, even more so since the touch was gentle and loving. There had been so very few times when Mother was like this._

_He didn't want to open his eyes, but instead, wanted to lay there and absorb all the love and comfort that only she could give when she was willing to. He could feel her in the room, her presence in every breath he took, every thought he had._

_She filled the entire room with her magnificence, and he had all her attention._

_She cooed to him, a wordless sound that spoke of her pleasure that he was within her arms. His head was in her lap, her soft fingers carding through his hair. She traced the structures of his face, touching his cheekbones, lightly grazing her fingertips over his eyelids and the shape of his forehead. Each touch spoke of her claim to him, each caress said mine, mine, mine. Her cold hands traveled to the outline of his jaw, dipping just a little bit further to cup his neck. He tensed as she gave a warning squeeze, adding just enough pressure to rouse him from his comfort. She then sighed, releasing her grasp to once again play with his hair, content._

_He opened his eyes then, staring into her youthful face, her eyes shining blue, the color of aquamarines. Her lips were ruby red and when she smiled... His breath hitched to see all of her sharp pointed teeth. Teeth that he had seen rip out the throats of his disobedient brothers and sisters, digging into white columns of flesh to suck out the only source of life they had. The blood stained her dainty jaw red, the fluid spilling down the white expanse of her neck as her small hands squeezed and squeezed, claw-like fingers digging into the skin, carving into the flesh. His brother or sister was gone by then leaving only a corpse that was cast aside for the magic that animated them was stolen away by her kiss. The blood that trailed down her arms and hands dripped to the floor, hitting with a thick sound._

_She was beautiful._

_With love in his eyes, he snuggled closer to her sighing in relief. Her voice drifted in his mind, overlapping and disorientating. She leaned over him so that all he could see was her, placing her deathly cold hands over his eyes. Her words were meant for him alone._

_He couldn't speak._

_She leaned in close so that the breath he breathed in was hers. It was fitting, his life was hers. She was the Mother of Darkness and he... they... were but mere shadows in her presence._

_

* * *

  
_

Bellatrix stared down at the unconscious potion master. Tapping her wand against her palm, she considered leaving him there, stupefied, for other Death Eaters to find. Her Lord would be furious to find out what Severus had been up to. Was it not a fitting punishment for one who betrayed their master even if it was such a minor detail? The lack of loyalty from her peers had always astounded Bellatrix who was so devout in serving Lord Voldemort.

Imagining the events that would follow if Snape was revived now, she thought that it would be better to see things played out in this matter. It would be like watching a worm struggling on a hook, fighting against its sealed fate. Grinning, Bellatrix touched her wand to his temple, letting the wand tip dig into his skin while imagining the confrontation that their master would surely have with his wayward follower.

With a whispered spell, Severus came to, a hand rising to gingerly touching his scalp. He looked beside towards the tree, heart pounding as he remembered that he had been speaking to Harry. His eyes met flattened herbs that indicated a brief scuffle, but no sign of the boy.

Harry was gone. He swallowed a lump of panic and only then noticed that he was not alone. He stared up at Bellatrix who was holding two wands, hers and his own. With a casual gesture and a dark smile, she offered it to him. Cautiously, Severus took it back wondering what game the most favored Death Eater was playing. That she was here could only have meant one thing, that she had been spying on him. However, he could not estimate how much information she knew, but she must know of the boy. Perhaps his identity still eluded her, for none of the Death Eaters were privy to the information that concerned Harry Potter. Only he had that knowledge and only because he had been the one to stumble across it and foolishly share it with the Dark Lord.

"Bellatrix, the boy..." He tried to explain, but dizziness caught up with him. He cursed whoever had knocked him out for his assaulter hadn't even given him the dignity of using the purely magical spell, stupefy, but one that manifested a physical object. He uttered the spell that would repair the damage, eliminating the concussion and the dizziness.

"Yes," Bellatrix hissed in irritation. Mockingly, she said in contempt, "The boy! The boy that came with the vampires. The boy that you allowed some abductors to steal one of _theirs _from under your gigantic, ugly nose."

With relief, he realized that yes, she didn't know who the slave was. That was good enough for now, but the fact that the boy was in the center of this entire catastrophe was dangerous enough. Severus doubted very much that his secret would remain intact.

He had to make haste. It would be impossible and highly unlikely that the boy would remain in obscurity, known only as the vampires' blood slave, but that didn't mean he could give up so easily.

Severus struggled to get up, feeling his legs shake as he forced them to obey. They ached, just like the rest of his body for he had not landed comfortably when he was knocked unconscious. Then a worse pain came, a burning on his left arm that had him hissing as he clutched it. Bellatrix also felt the sensation though she felt more ecstatic for the simple reason that the Dark Lord called.

Bellatrix grabbed his free arm, a crazed grin on her face that reminded him all too much of Black. "You fool, we must hurry! The Dark Lord is waiting which means the vampires must already know."

* * *

Sirius laid a hand on Harry's back, feeling the boy's warmth seep into his fingers. He was so thin that the Death Eater traitor was thanking whatever deity would listen that they had gotten to him before the vampires sucked him dry of blood and life. It had taken them days to plan this course, from scrutinizing the schedules of the guards, to analyzing Harry's movements in the castle. It was only sheer luck that Sirius had been assigned to the group that guarded the vampires' quarters. Even then, acquiring the schedules wasn't easy. Sirius couldn't just nick the schedule from Crabbe Senior. It would've obviously roused suspicion before the plan was set into motion and then what? The possibilities were endless, and many of them weren't good.

Somehow, they pulled it off. Thank Merlin, they had managed to pull it off. Sirius had been acting as a sympathizing vampire hater when he approached these two other Death Eaters. It had been a lot easier to convince them that they shared that common hatred. Once they shared a kind of comradeship, Sirius was able to drug them and take them to Dumbledore after he had gotten them to Grimmauld Place. A few hours before the kidnapping was to take place, Mad-Eye Moody and their former transfiguration teacher, Minerva McGonagall, also Dumbledore's followers, had been sent to take care of their prisoners and also to ensure that their identities were sealed behind the faces of the newly caught Death Eaters.

Everything from their faces, their wands, and their scents were transfigured using complex spell work to resemble the other guards'. When the time came to change shifts, it was easy to walk back into Imperium Hold, wearing different faces.

It wasn't easy getting a hold of Harry, but now that they had him, it would take all of hell to return him back to the vampires.

They had only just left the Dark Lord's estate, the imposing form of Imperium Hold still visible behind them. Even though there weren't apparation wards where they were now located, Sirius and Remus were cautious of using such methods of transportation.

It would have been like breaking through a web and having the torn silken threads cling onto their bodies as they apparated. That was one of the unknown spells that Voldemort had linked into the apparation points, tracking spells developed by his own researches. Death Eaters, even traitors were monitored very closely. Apparating then would mean leading Voldemort straight to the newly moved location of the Order of Phoenix headquarters.

So they had to take the long way. Through stealth and avoidance, they had to get out of this hell hole with Harry unconscious the entire way. They couldn't trust him, at least not yet. Once they reached Dumbledore, he would know what to do. He would be able to convince Harry of the truth of the vampires he called masters.

Dumbledore could save him. If there was anyone capable of countering the vampire poison, it was he. Sirius could almost taste freedom on his tongue with each step.

With a quick look around, he reached into his robe pocket and took out the wand he had especially retrieved from Grimmauld Place. It was a Black heirloom, said to have been one of his ancestor's wand. It had been used for these kinds of purposes, to avoid detection from the ministry. In the safety of his home, he had used his blood to mark the wood of the wand so that it would awaken for its new Black master.

He would later have to hide it away in the Black vaults, but these were one of the times he was glad to have a family with such a dark history.

With a wave of his wand, he casted an invisibility spell over them. With another wave, he silenced any sounds their feet made on dirt path. And the final spell removed their scents for what better way to track the abducted boy than by scent?

They couldn't take the Knight Bus, there were spells anchored into the entrance that counted the number of incoming passengers. They couldn't leave a trace of where they were going and surely, the vampires would try to track their slave down. They had to make Harry literally disappear and with the way their modes of transportation was limited, that was very hard to do indeed.

It was only a few hours before dawn. The vampires wouldn't dare come out so close to the rising of the sun so all they had to worry about were the Death Eaters that Voldemort would send out if the vampires even cared at all. Remus confirmed to the Order that they would indeed care. They would see the theft as a challenge to their abilities. Even if it was a slave, their vengeance was assured. Their identities, unless they were caught, were secured. All they had to do was reach Hogsmeade and they were free.

Hogsmeade was more known for its various shops that catered to different interests. Clothing, jewelry, toys, pets, and many others. There were also establishments that were open past midnight and it was to one of those that Remus and Sirius had to travel to. In a restaurant called Atlantis, customers were brought into an underwater themed environment where rich dark wizards spent outrageous amounts of galleons on food and entertainment.

It was there that they would rendezvous with Minerva and using a portkey to forever erase Harry's trail from the Dark Lord's hunters. It was perfect, he wouldn't have even known Harry was ever within touching distance before he was gone.

Sirius could feel the muscles in his legs starting to tire. The disillusionment spell had already worn off and they saw no need to reapply it, at least for now until they reached Hogsmeade Village. Remus, who kept a steady pace behind him was still going strong. He wished for a moment that they had thought of bringing brooms to make the trip shorter. It was easy for a werewolf to transverse the distance between Imperium Hold and Hogsmeade, but Sirius was just a wizard, one that was out of shape.

Stopping to rest for a moment, he huffed to Remus, "You should just go ahead. Get Harry out of here."

Remus' transfigured brown eyes, a dirt colored shade instead of his wolf's amber, caught his gaze. "They'll find you, Padfoot. Once we're gone, you won't have a way to get to us." He adjusted Harry's unconscious body, shifting the weight on his back into a more comfortable balance. He turned to look behind them, scanning the darkened path. "How far do you think they are? There was a meeting when we left, do you think they won't notice until after it's over?"

Rubbing his tired muscles, Sirius was tempted to cast another spell to take the fatigue away, but had done so too often within the past few hours. He decided against it and considered Remus' questions, concluding that it was most likely possible. The Dark Lord was adamant that the negotiations pulled through. He couldn't imagine Voldemort interrupting the meeting because of a conflict, especially one that would upset the vampires. "Probably. We got some time."

Remus grimly smiled and even though the face he wore wasn't his, Sirius could still see his long time friend underneath. "Then let's get moving. I won't leave you behind."

They pushed ahead and soon enough were able cross the barrier that extended beyond the wizarding village. Once inside, they were able to see the tops of the pointed roofs and the glowing sparks of wizard light that illuminated the darkened streets.

Encouraged, Sirius pushed himself to continue. They were so close.

Then Remus stopped. Sirius turned to face him, silently asking what was wrong.

Remus looked around, his eyes dilated, nostrils flaring as he took in deep breathes. From Imperium Hold, they had taken a less traveled pathway. The trees that grew around them blocked out the light of the half moon. It was dark and deathly quiet with only the wind's whispering through the trees. The hairs at the back of his neck were standing and the wolf inside him growled. Before his human self even noticed, his wolf was raising its hackles sensing the presence of dangerous predators lurking in the shadows.

Becoming anxious, Sirius scanned their surroundings, but couldn't make out anything alarming. "Moony...?" He hesitatingly asked.

Eyes still searching the treetops around them, Remus muttered though he knew it was pointless. "I smell... corpses." He breathed in again. "It's the vampires."

To Sirius, it felt like his heart stopped beating then. _The _v_ampires?_ He felt dread start to slowly build. It was close to sun rise, how could the vampires risk themselves? How could they have so erroneously miscalculated those damned bloodsuckers' actions?

He pushed away the rising fear and fell into a battle stance, raising his wand just in case. Remus turned to him, eyes hardened.

"Take him, Padfoot." Remus said, moving Harry off his back and into Sirius' arms. The wizard didn't like this one bit for he couldn't fight like this.

"I can't cast like this, Moony," he objected, but took his godson into his arms regardless. He wanted use of his wand hand, but Harry was heavy and awkward in his arms and restricted his movements. He wouldn't be able to cast any spells, offensive or defensive.

"Be quiet." Remus whispered urgently, slowly turning about in a circle and inspecting every area with his gaze. He continued to breathe deeply, sometimes pausing to take another breath in different directions. Since the war, Remus had come to realize that the wolf inside him was a vicious creature, a monster just like the vampires. It took a monster to know a monster, and his wolf was very aware of them right now though Remus was finding it hard to understand what it knew.

Then a dark shape fell, landing on top of him, and they rolled onto the ground, limbs going everywhere, each trying to get a hold of the other. Sirius backed up against a tree, holding Harry close while trying to aim his wand at the struggling forms that wrestled in front of him. In the darkness, he couldn't quite make out who he was aiming at. His angle was awkward and his aim may be off. He couldn't risk hurting Remus, but like this, he was helpless.

A rustle was heard above him.

"Return him, wizard," growled a feminine voice by his shoulder. Sirius whipped his head towards the source, eyes growing large as Argenta bared her sharp fangs at him. She hung upside down from a tree limb, her face in the shadows except for her eyes which glowed with triumph, gray orbs molten like mercury.

Sirius ran. Argenta dropped to the ground, gazing in the direction that the other wizard ran off to. She glanced at her companion who was still caught up in a struggle with the werewolf. Her heart raced just watching them struggle and she very badly wanted to join in. Surely, playing with a wolf would be more fun than toying with a human.

The werewolves and this one very much stank like the children of the moon, were exhilarating to play with. Zephyr was absorbed in the fight and Argenta gave into the desire in her blood, taking off to hunt the wizard.

Remus saw her dash off in pursuit of Sirius and crashed his elbow into his opponent's stomach. The vampire, Zephyr, just grunted and strained his neck towards Remus, deadly fangs trying to get within biting distance. The wolf inside him raged, using his physical strength to push against the vampire's face, feeling the tip of a fang nick his palm. He shoved him off hard, but not before the vampire slashed at his face, sharp nails leaving lines of red on his face.

The werewolf hissed in pain, rolling away to crouch on fours. Blood dripped into his eyes, but he ignored it as he faced the smug vampire. Even though this was not his body, his werewolf self still waited within for a chance to come out. It pushed at the boundaries of his skin, desperate to fight. The vampire was also crouched, blue eyes like the center of a flame as he waited for his prey to make a move. There was a sick kind of excitement in the vampire's eyes, one that Remus understood all too well when he was hunting in his wolf form.

He had to finish this fast. Sirius needed him!

The vampire jumped into the trees, crouching on a sturdy branch. "Little wolf, little wolf, why don't you come out to play?" He sang to Remus. Zephyr had claimed this one knowing he was a werewolf. It had been too long since their kind had warred against one another and the vampire guard yearned for it. When vampires fought, their beauty came from their precision, and their stealth. The werewolves were the opposite, their sharp canines, even similar to the vampires', made them messy and bestial. They shredded, they ripped, they tore the flesh off of their opponents.

Zephyr wanted to see that, he wanted to feel it.

Swiping the blood from his face, Remus glared into the darkness. His werewolf eyes, a burning yellow, were able to sense the vampire even in the dark. The wolf inside him raged to attack, but Remus held it back. He knew that Zephyr was trying to disappear in the shadows so he could stalk closer. Even with the wolf so close to his skin, he couldn't forget that he was human, that he was a wizard. He flung a curse, the sizzling red flying in the vampire's direction. It destroyed the tree limb, causing Zephyr to jump farther back and drop to the ground. Remus chased after him, the dark blur in front of him becoming clearer the closer he got.

The werewolf launched himself at the vampire only to fly into empty air as his opponent dodged. Remus landed and threw himself at the guard's direction which was successfully avoided again.

They circled each other, waiting for the other to make a mistake.

Then the vampire whirled around just in time to catch a bright beam of red to his chest. Shock entered those glowing eyes as he touched the burnt skin. Precious blood was seeping out, and the world was becoming fuzzy around him, but the pain was exquisite. He fell to his knees, digging his fingers in the destroyed skin in his back. With a labored curse, Zephyr propelled himself into the trees, feeling his injured muscles scream out in agony. The pain made him breathless, but he ignored it for now, fleeing without looking back.

Remus could only stare in surprise and relief as Minerva stepped out from the shadow of a tree. Her face was grim, but determined. Her wand was raised, and Remus was startled to find killing intent in his ex-professor's eyes.

* * *

The Dark Lord was going to personally see to the success of this mission. A report had come in about a battle that was taking place near Hogsmeade Village. The report said the battle was five against two. Severus made sure that he was among those to go. The Inner Circle was accompanying Voldemort for he didn't trust any other and even then they were missing some of their numbers. The Dark Lord refused to wait for others that couldn't hasten to his call. He had four with him and that was enough, for Voldemort, himself, could easily overpower a small rebel group.

Within an hour, they arrived at the edge of Hogsmeade Village which was now on lock down since the fighting had begun. The floo systems were shut down, the anti-apparation wards set up. Dark wizards dressed in complete Death Eater regalia followed their Lord. With their dark robes and skull masks, they resembled Charon, the mythical ferryman that carried souls to the afterlife.

The group they encountered was familiar though they had exiled themselves from England since his rise. There were four figures, each facing their backs towards a fifth that was being shielded in the middle. Voldemort recognized three as enemies and two as traitors. The Dark Lord wasn't surprised at all that these people would appear now that Dumbledore had shown himself to be back. The two he didn't recognize were both his, Death Eaters that had gone astray. It enraged him that those who swore loyalty to him would be so fickle with their vows. It didn't matter now, Voldemort would make them pay.

The intruders had been using spells that employed fire elements. Some of the trees around them were charred, the leaves burnt away, and trunks scorched. The burning trees around them lent a strange orange yellow glow to the scene.

He couldn't see the vampires, but he knew they were lurking in the shadows.

"Well, well, well." Voldemort drawled as he stepped into the field. His Death Eaters silently followed behind him, wand in hand and arrogant because of his presence. The group of intruders tensed, wands switching angles to point at the newcomers only to be countered by his own followers.

"Isn't this most fortunate! Welcome back to wizarding England." His red eyes swept over their taunt forms, each person tensed and ready for battle though they showed signs of tiring. He wondered how they managed to stand against the vampires.

"We want the boy," Lord Jasper's voice rasped from the darkness. McGonagall launched a spell, a spiraling red wheel that crashed into the tree that the vampire was most likely hiding in. It seared an imprint of its image on the bark, the branches and leaves set aflame. A low laughter could be heard from another location, mocking and daring her for another try.

Voldemort could barely make out the small form that the middle wizard was protecting. That was what the vampires desired. That was what had been stolen from his own home and it was what the Dark Lord would return to the vampires.

"We need to leave!" Moody huffed to the others, his magical eye whirling to watch all the Death Eaters. Minerva had managed to disable one of the vampires from sheer surprise, but their fight with the rest was too much. The vampires seemed to have been able to sense that something had gone awry with their comrade and yet they still played with them. The vampires were like a group of cats playing with mice, fascinated by the wizards and their explosive spells.

There were only two vampires left, and there had been four of them with Sirius unable to fight. It was only through Minerva's advanced spell knowledge and Moody's war trained defenses that they were able to stop them from taking Harry back, though their attempts didn't seem too heartfelt. Now the odds were tipped beyond their favor with the arrival of Voldemort and his cronies. The vampires retreated, falling into the shadows that were their namesake, to observe with predatory eyes.

Crouching by Jasper's side, Argenta watched, her keen eyes drinking in the sight of the surrounded humans. One of them held their prize, their filthy human hands holding tight to something that was not theirs. And yet, her Lord demanded her patience, not restricting her with his hands but with his will.

Like when they first arrived, Lord Jasper commanded her into a rare obedience. _Be still. We shall watch these humans play their games. _She took in a deep breath and yet her eyes stayed fixed on the unconscious boy, her hold loosening on the limb she crouched upon. She did not intend to relax, no, she meant to get ready for when she would spring off the limb and sweep down towards the wizards. But for now she waited, as commanded.

Moody's eyes darted between the group of Death Eaters and where the vampires had melded into the darkness. Their situation was not good, not good at all. Moody grabbed onto Remus' elbow with his free hand, commanding, "Quick! Grab...!" Before he even finished speaking, Voldemort had slashed the air with his wand, a string of Latin falling from his lips.

A screeching sound could be heard as a chasm split the earth from beneath their feet. The Order of Phoenix members were forced to scatter to avoid falling into the ditch. The Death Eaters launched into an attack with Bellatrix and Rodolphus teaming together to play with Moody.

Lucius, with a dark smirk, stepped towards McGonagall who started to instantly cast, spells flying from her wand with deadly intent. He dodged, shielded, and deflected the spells, all the while sending out his own repartee of dark hexes and curses.

That left Severus and the Dark Lord to deal with the traitors. It was then that Severus realized that the two traitors were part of the group that was to monitor the vampires' wing. He remembered that they were, according to his own observations, arrogant without proving their worth and also very fearful of the vampires. That fear may have even extended towards hatred for them to have done something so foolish.

"I must express my gratitude," Voldemort said with a cruel smile. "Because of your foolishness, I must get rid of you. Eliminating such filth from my numbers would only strengthen my forces."

"Get to McGonagall," one said to the other who carried the boy. The first foolishly took aim at the Dark Lord.

"Severus, take care of this one." He shielded himself from the spell that came his way, but otherwise ignored the first wizard to pursue the other who had taken off. Severus could do nothing, but attack though he used only borderline dark magic. The Dark Lord would expect him to give his all, but with McGonagall and Moody present, it could only mean that Dumbledore was involved. He felt torn when trying to think of what side to support.

Dumbledore hadn't informed him of this. If he were to even marginally help the trespassers, and the Dark Lord somehow became suspicious then his neck would be on the line. He decided that his only option was to play his part as Voldemort's trusted follower and keep his position until he had more information. There was no guarantee from any of once comrades that he was supposed to come along. Harry, even as precious as the Order believed him to be, was not in any immediate danger, at least not from what Severus could infer based on the vampires' protectiveness over the boy. Therefore, it would be foolish for Severus to willingly reveal his double occupation when it was not needed.

Sirius was no match for the barrage of spells that Voldemort sent with a flurry of wand movements and incantations. Furthermore, he had a handicap for he had to protect the boy he carried in his arms. The Dark Lord used this to his advantage, but like his opponent, it also limited the spells that he wanted to use. He had to be most careful not to harm the boy and so, was forced to rely on spells that had great precision and his own reflexes to guide the spells to their intended location.

Sirius had just dodged a cutting curse that was aimed at his Achilles tendon. Had that hit its mark, he would've been incapable of doing anything, much less carry the boy. Though he was successful in avoiding the most important spells, ones that would immobilize him, Sirius tripped over a tree root as he dodged another quicksand hex. He went crashing to the ground, his godson tumbling out of his arms. He cried out in pain and shock, his ankle had twisted.

Harry laid in an unmoving heap just a few feet away.

"Moody! Grab them!" McGonagall cried before grabbing onto a protesting Remus and activating the portkey. Moody had escaped the Lestranges' clutches and turned their illusion curse rebounding towards them.

He sprinted towards Sirius, hand reaching into his robe pocket to retrieve the portkey. A vampire crashed into him, using pure speed to slam him into a tree. Moody cried out in pain. Argenta gripped his neck with steel fingers, her face so close to his neck that only had to move a little bit forward to sink her fangs in.

An orange fireball, the size of a bludger knocked her away, slamming her into another tree where she groaned and fell limp to the ground. Sirius could only gasp in pain as he lowered his wand. He had pushed himself to twist around so he could aim at the female vampire. He knew if they failed, they would all be tortured and put to death. With desperation and adrenaline pumping in his veins, Sirius had pushed himself to ignore the pain of his twisted ankle. It had been just enough to knock her away.

Though his robes were slightly singed, Moody recovered quickly, only tossing a single glance at the unconscious vampire. He knelt before Sirius, clasping Harry's limp wrist in one hand, and a portkey in the other. Sirius could feel the scraps on his palms and arms, but nevertheless, clasped the war veteran's arm.

"Hold on tight!" Moody growled, the portkey coming alive.

"I think not!" Voldemort snarled, flinging a severing curse. It hit Moody's arm, parting flesh, muscle, and bone. The war torn wizard's scream echoed as the portkey took them away. The slave laid still and unmoving, but still alive, with only the severed arm beside him to show just how close Voldemort came to disaster.

Lord Jasper knelt by the crumbled form of his guard. He stared down upon her, face like stone.

She laid propped against the ruined trunk, her hands pressed against the wound. Blood flowed between her pale fingers staining them red. Her eyes were clenched tight, face as white as sheet with beads of sweat dotting her forehead. Her breathing was haggard, the rise and fall of her chest shallow. The other vampire carefully reached out steady hands to tentatively reveal her wound. Her eyes snapped open, silver eyes molten as she fought to control the instincts that fought against her will. She hissed, the sound both a warning and an indication of her fear of being vulnerable. Instead of respecting her desire, her Lord responded by baring his fangs in a silent threat. She whimpered at the sight, allowing him to pull her hands away from the bleeding wound.

The wound was deep, seared muscle and sinew badly burned. Even in such a case, blood was still able to seep out from the inner area of the wound. Voldemort stood ready nearby, watching in fascination as the tissue reformed itself, slowly knitting back together. Seeing the wizard come closer, Lord Jasper hissed a warning, "Be wary, Lord Wizard. An injured vampire's instincts are demanding. You are naught, but food to her right now."

Voldemort could see that, now that he looked away from her slowly healing flesh. She watched him with a predatory gaze, the only thing preventing her from attacking was her still healing wound and the way the other vampire pinned her shoulder against the tree behind her. He backed up further, wary of how Argenta's eyes followed his retreating form. Her Lord murmured words of praise, catching her attention and trying to distract her from the scent of a mortal so close. She closed her eyes accepting of the praise and they both waited for the wound to heal.

Rodolphus approached the strange group, a burden carried in his arms. The slave had not yet been released from the enchantment the traitors had placed and so remained firmly spelled in deep slumber. Voldemort wondered how the theft of such small thing could rouse the vampires' ire.

His Death Eater stopped, unsure of what to do. Seeing that the Dark Lord kept his distance from the two vampires cautioned him against approaching them, even when he carried their prize in his arms.

Voldemort observed the boy, recognizing him from day the vampires had arrived. How could possibly forget such a pathetic human? But he could see changes in the boy's health or maybe perhaps just differences brought on by the wizard light that Bellatrix had spelled around them. The yellow glow of the lights seemed to add a healthy tinge to the boy's normally pale and sickly flesh. Like this, the Dark Lord could see the physical beauty that the vampires enjoyed. The slave's hair was an inky black, ruffled and endearing.

The Dark Lord peered into his face, wondering if the trick of wizard light improved that as well. It did, or maybe the Dark Lord hadn't ever noticed because all he had focused upon was the slave's ailing health when he first landed eyes on the boy. He was handsome though, and the Dark Lord could discern why the vampires would want this one, but didn't understand enough why they treasured the boy.

Then a faint smell roused his attention. It wasn't a scent, per se, but a mixture of smell and sensation that was different from anything he had ever experienced. Curious, Voldemort tried to focus on it, closing his eyes to isolate its unique presence. His own dark magic reached out to carefully taste the boy that lay unconscious before him. Magic, like those of wizard kind and dark, like his alone. It called to him, this boy's magic, rejoicing as though reuniting with a lost loved one.

Quick as a snake, the Dark Lord's hand shot forth, tapered fingers brushing away the fringe that had partially covered the slave's face. The Dark magic was strongest here, was calling for him to take notice. His fingertips met with too smooth skin, skin that had been scared and healed into a shiny ridge shaped like a lightning bolt.

And it was as he expected when he opened his eyes. The scar was a lightning bolt shape, one that was not so familiar because he had never closely studied it, but recognizable because his magic had called his attention to this bond between them. It was the scar created from a curse, from the avada kedavra.

Rodolphus remained quiet, watching his Lord's strange interactions with the boy. He dared not speak though, in case it reminded the Dark Lord of his presence. Then the last missing vampire who had not made an appearance until now appeared beside Rodolphus. Zephyr was unwounded and the only indication that spoke otherwise was the large hole in his body suit. And yet, there was only the smooth, unbroken flesh of his abdominal muscles.

"Give him to me," the other vampire said, arms outstretched to take the boy. Rodolphus was just about to do so when Voldemort restrained him, grabbing onto his arm. The Dark Lord's ruby red eyes were trained on the intruding vampire, narrowed and accessing.

"This boy is Harry Potter," the Dark Lord declared. Zephyr just stared at him blankly as though he spoke another language.

"You know him by that name." Lord Jasper confirmed as he stood. His tone irritated Voldemort for it was dismissive. The Dark Lord had honored the vampires with his decision to personally see to this matter. He had given them aid and the way the vampires acted was as though they were perfectly fine without it. The way the female guard had been injured so easily spoke of how things would have turned out had Voldemort decided against sending help.

It may have been true that the vampires were fearsome creatures, but perhaps against magic, they weren't so much of a threat.

The female guard was fully healed now. A part of him wondered what vampire blood would do if applied to their own wounds, but pushed the ideas away for now.

This boy that they had marked as a slave was a wizard. He was Harry Potter, a wizard who had managed to deflect the unstoppable killing curse before his magical power was fully developed. Now that Voldemort knew, he felt the claim to this boy strengthen and solidify.

"He is a wizard," Voldemort impatiently explained. "He is one of ours, not yours."

There was such an alien expression on the vampires' faces that Voldemort couldn't estimate what they were feeling, but Argenta was shaking her head in denial. Zephyr waited for his Lord's orders, still as a statue.

Lord Jasper glanced at the boy, thinking thoughtfully. "When one abandons their own, they are free blood. This one, despite being from your world, is ours now."

Voldemort frowned, his grip tightening on Rodolphus' arm so hard that the other wizard flinched. Bellatrix wandered towards them, her dark gray eyes flickering between the tense form of her Lord and the vampires.

Argenta glanced around, taking in a deep breath and shuddering in disgust.

"We must go," she declared. "Sunlight is fast approaching, we cannot be caught by its touch."

Lord Jasper nodded, motioning to Zephyr to take the boy again, but Voldemort denied him once again. This time, the vampires were not happy, Lord Jasper's eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint and Zephyr stopping with a stillness that suggested violence. Voldemort's wand was in his hand, but he didn't want to threaten them. The negotiations between their kind lay heavy in his mind even when it spun with theories of the avada kedvara and how one can deflect it.

Unhappy, the Dark Lord warned, "You may take the boy for now, but he is a wizard. You cannot keep one of ours from returning."

Lord Jasper's human smile cracked the expression of stone that had endured since they first encountered the rebel wizards. "You may choose to believe so, but yes. For now, we are in agreement to discuss this." He spread his hands as though in offering. "I am willing to hear of your desires for this boy and why you have an interest in our little Harry. He shall return with us for now."

Voldemort could accept that so he stepped aside to let the male guard cradle the slave's form. They jumped into air, leaping as though to vanish into the fast receding night. Bellatrix joined her master, Severus limping besides her.

With an intrigued smirk, Voldemort dismissed them, only calling Severus to follow as they returned to Imperium Hold with the sun rising behind them.

* * *

The entrance of the tomb was blocked, the darkness enveloping them comforting. The air was stale, musty, and limited. It was a perfect place to recuperate since the vampires could not allow the sun to kiss their damned flesh. Their prize was laid on top of the tomb, his breathing silent and deep. Even with the smell of dirt and dust, his scent was alluring and comforting.

The vampires settled into the corners as though to guard him, backs touching the cool walls of the tomb. They could taste the coming light of the sun like the mist in the air before it rained.

The two guards, while fully healed, were exhausted because of the fast recuperation after being hit by those fire spells. With daylight approaching, their powers were also weakened. They had much to think of, much to decide, and much to inform home of, how wizard magic was more dangerous than they had first believed and how their own ignorance was the most dangerous of it all. Wizards and vampires. Vampires and wizards. Never had the two crossed paths in war. Wizard magic was foreign to them and yet, the possible capabilities made it as dangerous as the sun.

It was an exciting notion. The vampires may have found an adversary worth fighting against, worth dying to. The werewolves were vicious creatures and their fighting was glorious with so much gore and pain, their sharp claws and even sharper canines. But their potential as a worthy adversary had already been reached. They could do no more to harm the undead race. The wizards had potential if trained and encouraged properly.

The wizards could be worthy adversaries indeed. They wouldn't have the physical contact in battle that the vampires enjoyed when fighting werewolves but they had potential to be so much more.

As much as the thought was exhilarating, for now, they required rest.

The sun had just risen and even hidden away in this fake sanctuary, they felt their strength wane from their bodies. Coldness was filling their insides, their limbs becoming sluggish and stiff as though true death was descending upon them. There was a quietness settling upon them that only true death was capable of. The darkness swept over them, stealing away whatever consciousness they possessed whether it be a soul or mind, leaving only corpses where the vampires slept.

* * *

Dumbledore sat down on the chair besides the bed, feeling the years of hard decisions and responsibility weighing on his shoulders. He had just dismissed Madam Pomfrey from the area knowing if he didn't do so, she would exhaust herself until she collapsed. She had worked tirelessly for the entire day to help stabilize Moody who had been the most injured of the returning group. Tom had sliced Moody's arm clear off his shoulder and not only that, but transporting by portkey had given Moody's body a worse shock.

They had been a state of panic with Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey the only source of strength. She had marched forward, spells flying about to stabilize Moody's worsening condition. Dumbledore has trusted her to save Moody's life and she had not failed him.

Dumbledore thanked Merlin that they had returned with their lives, but they had returned without Harry. The elderly wizard put his head in his hands, wondering what was to become of the boy now. They had rushed, he knew it now. It was his mistake for he had let his panic override his senses. That voice in his head whispered guilty words to him, but he tried to ignore it. He had done his best. They saw a chance, possibly the only chance that they could take and they had taken it. They would have succeeded had it not been for Tom.

How many years has it been now since he first delivered Harry Potter into the vampire's safe keeping? Sixteen years now? Seventeen? A muggle at that age would be completely mindless, obeying every twisted command the vampires ordered. With Harry's magic protecting him, he had slightly more time, but not so much that Dumbledore would risk leaving him with them for any longer.

The Light wizard closed his eyes, seeing the events and their threads connecting each other. In his mind's eye, he could see the possible actions he must take. The goal was Harry Potter, they needed him. He was the only one that could vanquish the Dark Lord.

And then there were the vampires, monstrous creatures that moved according to _her_ will and _her_ pleasure. He shuddered, remembering those soulless eyes, the strength in those petite hands, cold as death. _She_ had an interest in Harry too and he couldn't fathom why. No matter what Harry was, vampires, especially _her_, did not care for those that weren't their own. They lived in a world of desire, knowing only their own thirst and wants, mindless... soulless in a way that only they were capable of. Even the dementors were easier to understand for they thirsted for only one thing. The minds of vampires, twisted and crazed from the never ending passage of time was too strange even for wizards who easily outlived the muggles.

Remus and Sirius had gone back to the Dark Lord. That was one thing that had gone along perfectly. It helped that the two Death Eaters that they had imitated were now dead. Their deaths, too, lay guilty in his mind, but not so heavy a weight as those that trusted him.

Tonight, he would have to formulate another plan, a proper one. Tonight, he would have to tell the rest of the Order why it was important they retrieved Harry. He would have to release information of the prophecy, a long guarded secret that would have to come to light. He would have to explain the seriousness of their predicament, a state that was much worse than anyone in the Order was aware of. Dumbledore, being the only wizard who ventured into vampire territory, would have to explain to them that in their savior's body, the magic innate in all wizards was slowly being consumed by vampire venom.


	7. Stalking the Prey

A/N: Yay, new chapter! Thank you to everyone who have waited for these sporadic updates and for all the yummy reviews. With summer coming up, I'm hoping to get more chapters out but we'll see.. Thanks to Ann10550 for betaing and SilverHineko for putting up with my hatred of commas and buts! :D

* * *

Chapter 6: Stalking the Prey

Even from so far away, Casimir could smell the stench of animals and the filth that covered the pub. His sense of smell would suffer in such a place, but he nevertheless entered Hog's Head. He was right, for there was dirt and grime everywhere, thick layers that covered the surfaces of all except the tables, chairs, and bar area. The floors were covered in grime and even the windows were blocked by layers of dust. He doubted that even the penetrating rays of the sun would be able to encroach its way into the building. The stench was even worse once he was inside, for the scents of unwashed human bodies and strangely flea bitten goats assaulted his nose.

The customers paid him no mind partly due to the fact that his distinguishable features were hidden beneath a hood. It was also because the clientele of Hog's Head desired to remain unknown and so, no one really attempted to dig further into anyone's business. Amongst these humans, he didn't stand out for they were all shady characters that wanted to fade into obscurity.

Regardless, nothing could hide the gracefulness of his steps or the magnetism of his power as he walked towards the stairs. The wizard that summoned him was waiting inside one of the rooms upstairs which he secured for a private meeting. Ignoring the filth, Casimir made his way to the destined meeting. The wizards and witches that had been caught by his thrall looked away, returning to their business as though shaken from a daydream.

The vampire came here of his own will, having kept this information from the rest of the coven. They needn't know every single detail that Casimir had to deal with. It was not a secret, not the kind that humans tended to keep out of fear of judgment or necessity. Meeting this wizard was simply a decision. It was mainly curiosity that led the vampire to accept Dumbledore's invitation. The last time they had met, Casimir had been given a great gift and he wondered what this meeting would result in. He was not a fool to expect much though.

He could always kill Dumbledore, the vampire mused. There was nothing between them now that would protect the other wizard, no debt owed or forged alliance, not even the inkling of sentimentality or worse, the desire to hunt. He paused at the top of the stairs, remembering the orders given by her. _Cold, jeweled eyes, staring down at him impassively as thick drops of blood dripped off her pale arms to drop into his mouth. The agony of his broken body at her feet, her blood, so delicious, like a blessing as those precious fluids slowly brought his body back from its ruined state._ No, he wouldn't kill Dumbledore, he decided.

Upon reaching the private room, he stood there a moment, listening to the lulling heartbeats of the humans inside. He hadn't yet fed, but he had enough control that he would wait until later to find a meal. Three heartbeats, three scents, and three voices.

He knocked lightly and was allowed in. The inside of the room was tidier than the rest of the establish, or perhaps the walls and surfaces had been spelled clean by the wizard he was meeting. Beneath the grim, the decor was simple and plain, befitting of an establishment that didn't want to stand out in any shape or form. A solid brown color, that could have been burgundy in an earlier age, lined the walls. In the corner, there was a single brass statue of a woodland satyr that held a empty pitcher with several glasses that slowly rotated underneath it. Besides that single piece of decoration there was nothing else.

He came face to face with the one who had called for him, Albus Dumbledore and two of his servants, an older female witch, and a red headed wizard that looked younger than the wizard he called master. The last time he had seen the elder wizard, he had dressed in flamboyant colors, prideful and unafraid of showing his presence. The times had changed for now, dark robes clad his thin body so that he was just another wizard in the presence of other wizards, unremarkable and just as forgettable.

Casimir was delighted to see that even after so many years the wizards were still wary of his presence. So it should be, that the prey would fear the predator.

Dumbledore gestured for him to take a seat, and Casimir did so, folding his hands above the tabletop. The vampire was amused to note that the elderly wizard did not offer him a drink. He should smile now, was that not how humans showed friendliness towards another? Inwardly, this amused him briefly that humans would show comradeship by bearing their teeth at one another. But then, these were strange creatures after all.

Casimir felt a cool sensation well up inside him and then solid hands grip his shoulders. From the corner of his eye, he could see the pale smooth flesh of his Queen's dainty hands. The sharp points of her nails pierced his flesh even with the layer of clothing between them. She murmured to herself as she gazed at the wizards, her thoughts like a quiet stream in his mind. Her eyes zeroing on the one that summoned him, and she went quiet. Casimir brushed her hand with acknowledgment, the motion smooth and practiced as though he were brushing off dirt. She vanished, her disappearance making the atmosphere of the room feel lighter. To the wizards, she was never there in the first place.

Mother had commanded, _give nothing_, and he complied. Casimir continued his charade.

With a smile that kept his sharp incisors hidden, he gestured to the enchanted satyr as though he was never distracted and said out loud, "Is it not the custom of humans to offer their guests a drink?" Smiling, he lifted his lips just enough to show the points of his fangs. It had been years since he met Dumbledore and he felt so much more alive now. The games that vampires loved to play with mortals had changed significantly since they had last met.

The woman stiffened, her eyes wanted to stay fixed on his mouth but forced herself to look away. The wrinkles on her face suggested she was past her prime in human years, but then again, wizards aged much slower than normal humans. The red headed wizard gave a quiet, but audible gasp and gripped his wand. Casimir gazed at the wand, his eyes narrowing. In actuality, he didn't care much for their little sticks. He could easily snap their necks before they even breathed out a word.

The idea of blood overflowing from the red head's ruined neck entertained the vampire for a moment. It was amazing how much blood the human body could carry, and when given a orifice to exit from, it spilled out warm and sticky with every beat of their dying heart. Would wizards have the same amount compared to muggles? Maybe more, maybe less? It was a pity that he wouldn't be able to find out tonight.

"Arthur, please." Albus said, as he laid a gentle hand against the other wizard's arm.

"Sorry." Arthur murmured though he didn't look at all apologetic. Either way, he put the wand away.

Albus leaned forward, wanting to start the negotiations so that the time they spent in this creature's presence would be as little as possible. "I would like to barter for the boy."

Casimir gazed at him, tilting his head to observe Dumbledore's features. They were so stern and serious, the blue eyes steady with a forced calm. This one, like last time, did not enjoy his presence and that made him even more fun to play with. With a deliberate gesture, he brought his fingers to his lips in a staged emotion of curiosity. Yes, curiosity looked something like this. His mind supplied dozens of similar gestures and expressions that he had studied from countless humans. "What would you have that would appeal to us?" The vampire queried, honestly curious, though just as equally uninterested.

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said after a pause. "You know him as Voldemort." He watched carefully as the vampire considered the possibility. Then he leaned back against the chair, giving a loud sigh as though he were bored of the conversation already.

With a look that clearly said he was suffering the conversation for Dumbledore's benefit, Casimir said, "And why would we possibly want him?"

Dumbledore knew that the vampires didn't care for mortals, but surely even they would remember something as important as this, especially since it concerned their own kind. Their minds were so removed from that of mortal thinking that often times Dumbledore second guessed their motives and their reasoning behind their actions. But this, he knew was clear. No matter the fact that they were beyond death, their kind was just as vengeful as any other mortal.

It led down to the games. The vampire was playing another game with them, as they often liked to do. He took a deep breath, not wanting to lose his composure around Minerva or Arthur. It was one of the reasons why they had accompanied him. Not only did he want their extra skills if it came to an all out brawl between him and the vampire, but Albus had wanted human company to keep him grounded in the confrontation. He had also wanted to give them more exposure to the creatures that they had to deal with.

Direct, he'd have to be direct with these creatures. Something must have changed for Casimir to put so much effort into this facade that they both knew was a faux.

"Playing human does not suit you, Casimir." He calmly told the vampire. "Has your queen ordered you to play these games now that the vampires have left obscurity?"

He had not wanted to taunt the vampire, no, but they were too dangerous to play games with. If he could, Albus would say these terms in a straight forward manner, with no tricks or games between them. The vampire only offered him another smile, one that was all teeth and showed off the sharp, deadly points of his elongated fangs. His eyes, chilled and emotionless, showed just how little he cared for Dumbledore's opinion.

Eyes narrowing in frustration, Dumbledore stated, "I am not here to play these games with you, Casimir. Voldemort has killed one of your kind. You and your queen know this, and I understand very well the vengeance that your kind would seek after a human harms one of _her_ children."

He ignored the way Minerva stared at him and the way Arthur was inching a bit closer to him to get away from the vampire. His blue eyes were trained on the frozen features of the monster in front of him.

Albus expected the vampire to drop all semblance of his latest game which he was surely playing to irritate them. The elderly wizard knew that, if anything, they were safe from his hunger for he didn't seemed distracted by the scent of their flesh nor by the sound of their blood which he could surely hear. Even so, these particular vampires were proud creatures and Dumbledore knew enough of them to understand that they liked to apply these games of theirs to their hunts also. Like the last time they had met, he expected the true personality of the vampire to surface, one that was detached and interested only in the exchange of business.

What he didn't expect was for the vampire to throw his head back in laughter. It rumbled from the depths of his non-existent soul to spill out of his mouth in a way that said he was unused to such a genuine response. Just as abruptly, he stopped as though the echo of it disturbed him, but his glacial eyes were playful with deadly purpose. He stood, leaning towards them with a mischievous smile on his face that looked wrong on his features. Twisted and inhuman, his lips curled into a wide smile with his fangs creating small indents as they pressed against his bottom lip. The shadows that were cast over his countenance made his glowing blue eyes even more evident, more defined, and more frightening.

It was like they were paralyzed, hypnotized by the vampire's eyes. Albus could do nothing, but watch as those red lips parted and the vampire spoke.

"You try to understand the minds of immortals," the monster spoke. "Keep trying, if it pleases you to do so, but do not make the mistake that you know us, that you know of _our_ vengeance when you have not yet tasted it."

Slowly, the vampire brought a finger that was stained with a drop of blood to his mouth, cleaning the red juice with a lick of his tongue. His glowing eyes never left Albus'. His lips curved into another disturbed smile even as he whispered, "Disgusting..." The beating of his heart filled his ears and the way the monster smiled in front of him let the wizard know that he heard it just as clearly. Not even the pain of Minerva's tightening hold on his arm could shake him from his stupor. A low harsh sound could be heard by his side, a slight gasp as Arthur tried to gain control over his body, but was floundering, still caught in the vampire's thrall.

Albus was barely breathing, starting so intently into those demonic eyes. He shuddered, though his muscles remained stiff and involuntary. With a ragged breath, Albus gathered his strength to break the thrall.

And then he was gone, the space in front of them was empty. It was only then that Dumbledore felt the slide of liquid down his cheek and the sting of pain from a cut just under his left eye.

Minerva gasped in surprise, fumbling for her wand to heal the shallow wound, but Albus paid her no mind. Arthur had taken his wand out again, holding it as though he expected Casimir to return for a bite of wizard blood.

But no, the vampire was truly gone, and with him, the vampire took away another option that Albus had tried to reach Harry.

* * *

"_Legilimens_!" Severus flattened his memories, shielding his self over the thin layer of damning secrets. Voldemort would be looking for memories of Harry and he did so, expertly weaving through sets of recollections that Severus had already strategically placed in his path. Voldemort inspected each one, discarding them and moving some to be further investigated later.

He was interested in seeing the boy, and he paused when he came upon their first brief meeting. His anger built when he saw how carelessly Severus had treated someone associated with the vampires. It grew even more so when he saw Severus' own decision to ignore the orders the Dark Lord had given. Gasping for breath, Severus clenched his fists feeling a headache start to pound inside his head. Voldemort's anger was deadly as it is, but to feel it brewing like a storm in his own mind was excruciating.

Severus offered up the small tidbits of information, mostly how strange their behavior was in comparison to wizards and humans in general. That source of information was Harry, and Severus himself was unable to worm his way into the boy's confidence. He doubted that he would be able to do so now that the slave had discovered his treachery.

Voldemort, with anger burning hotly in his mind, knew that he was hurting his servant. He didn't care. Bellatrix had informed him of Severus' carelessness and he could see it himself in the potion master's memories.

He dove into a set of memories that was strung together, immersing himself like he would if it were a pensieve.

_The herb garden surrounded them, the fragrances of different plants entwining so that they were surrounded by the scent of the earth and the warmth of sunlight. He was talking to Harry, trying to understand his alien mindset. His particular concern of this moment was magic and how the young, untrained wizard in front of him related to it._

_His answer came soon enough._

"_I don't care," the boy said as he watched Severus with disinterest._ _The Death Eater held his wand in his hand and wondered how the slave could possibly have no interest in magic. He had a connection with wizards and yet, it didn't matter to him. Then he remembered the other slaves' faces, their apathy about those that were outside their obsession with the vampires. Their drugged minds and infatuation with the vampires were beyond disgusting, it was pathetic._

_Could Harry possibly be one of those humans? He was unsure, as of now, since Harry did show interest in the rooms outside the servant quarters. Surely, that was a good sign if anything._

_Severus would have to try something, a test that he didn't want to do. A wizard's wand was a sacred part of them and letting another use it was like a violation of the self. But he forced himself to extend his hand, steady and hiding his desire to bring it back._

_Severus offered the wand to the boy. "Just try it, one spell." He was offering the boy much, without knowing whether or not Harry would accept. Did he realize what an honor it was to be offered another wizard's wand to use?_

_He didn't. Harry just stared at the wand, skeptical and uncaring. To him, it was just a stick, a piece of wood. Perhaps the only importance it had was its ability to be used against the vampires, not with magic, but as a stake. Severus worried that this disinterest in magic may be permanent._

Voldemort pulled himself away, silently snarling at the vampires that he wanted so badly as his allies. They had tainted the boy, turned him against his birthright, the same way muggles would do to wizard children if they had them in their grasp. The thought enraged him, his own memories of life as Tom Riddle surfacing in the back of his mind.

He banished them and dove into another memory, this time watching as it played out instead of assuming Severus' identity in the memory. He ignored the warning of Severus' mind which signaled extreme stress. He would push and push until he was satisfied.

Here, he watched as the vampire child eagerly suckled on the boy's wrist, licking at the drops of blood as though they were ambrosia itself. The memory showed the way Harry shivered and moaned, his pale hands gripping onto the cushion of the couch he and the vampire were seated on. Disturbed, the Dark Lord continued to watch as Malachite fed off of the slave. He tore his eyes away from the lax form to watch Lord Jasper who watched the two with what looked like excitement on his face. Voldemort realized that unlike any other time the vampire lord was in the presence of wizards, his gaze was locked on Potter.

The image darkened and Voldemort pulled away just in time to see Severus collapse on his knees, clutching his head with trembling hands. The Dark Lord stared down at him, anger and displeasure circling his mind along with the image of Harry Potter enraptured by the vampires feeding on his blood.

It angered him even more.

"_Crucio._" He watched with growing satisfaction as the already trembling body grew taunt, thrashing with abrupt jerks as Severus' nerves were set aflame. Severus was the kind of wizard that never wanted to give satisfaction to his tormentors, Voldemort knew this. He admired this about the potions master for it meant that it took extra effort to break the man. Even knowing that the Dark Lord desired it, Severus' mouth was clamped shut, withholding his screams from escaping with tight lips.

It took a little over a minute for the screams to emerge, but it was more enjoyable than if he gave in the first second.

There were better spells to use on someone who had been so disobedient than the cruciatus curse. There were spells that imitated the burning of the witch trials that started like a warmth at the soles of the victims' feet and then built into intensity until it climbed up their limbs and burnt them alive. The intensity of the flames would show on the flesh, first turning a threatening red and then blistering as though from a burn, and eventually bubbling. It proceeded from there with not even a flame to control. If Voldemort wanted gruesome, there were more suitable spells, but he preferred the cruciatus for more than one reason. Similar to his name, the once forbidden curse had gained a reputation that brought fear just by mere mentioning. Voldemort enjoyed its simplicity, the ability to cause pain onto others without dealing with a mess as an aftermath. The way that the subjects screamed was also a bonus.

Psychologically, it added to the fear that many people carried when they thought of the Dark Lord. The fear that came with pain that had no source was added to his own reputation.

He released the spell, watching with detachment as the Death Eater gasped for breath. Seeing Severus now, so out of control compared to his usual cool composure brought a sinister smile to Voldemort's face. Severus watched him, fear evident in his eyes. Even then, he tried to crawl closer, reaching with shaking hands for the hem of the Dark Lord's robes to kiss it in desperate apology.

The Dark Lord stepped away, using his wand to levitate the humbled form of his servant.

He reached into the other wizard's robe pockets, feeling smooth glass with his fingers. He withdrew the protected healing potion that he knew that Severus often carried. Showing the potion master, he tsked with apparent displeasure. "Did you think I didn't know what it is you were doing, Severus? It was only through my sufferance that you were allowed to erase my marks of punishment from your body."

Terror grew in those dark eyes as he uncorked the bottle, smelling the potion within. "I do not recall this kind of potion in the list of the ones you've improved for me." He raised a brow at the man. "Be sure to include this one."

With satisfaction, he poured half the contents out, letting the pearly blue liquid spill to the ground. Severus watched, despair growing in the pit of his stomach. "My other Death Eaters do not have the same advantages as you do, to cure themselves with potions. I have never allowed it even when asked."

If the Dark Lord had found out about his special potions, Severus would not be able to use them in fear of his retribution. Voldemort held the remaining potion in front of the trembling wizard. "I will permit this, since I require your services, but I will not tolerate your mistakes." The distraught Death Eater shuddered in relief that his master would allow him this one exception. Then he felt smooth glass in his hands as the Dark Lord commanded him to drink it.

Cowed into submission, Severus obeyed, though it was difficult. The cruciatus curse attacked the nerves and so, it was hard for Severus to control his hands for the simple task of drinking the potion. His fingers contracted and twitched in spasms no matter how hard he willed them to obey. Ignoring the pain as best as he could, he brought the potion to his lips, fingers shaking, causing them to click the glass rim of the bottle against his teeth. He drank it, though the unsteadiness made some of the potion spill at the side of his mouth. He almost chocked, but managed to prevent that small humiliation.

The potion worked swiftly, but having only half of what he needed, healed only enough so that his nerves fiercely ached instead of burned.

The Dark Lord dropped him onto the floor, where he once again scrambled to his knees.

"Look at me." The Dark Lord hissed and Severus obeyed, pulling his strained occlumency shields around him. "I want to know why you kept the existence of _Harry Potter_ from me."

With a whisper, Voldemort attacked his mind once more. Severus was just able to get his shields to lie flat before the Dark Lord barged into his mind. Had the Dark Lord not given him the small bit of potion, Severus would be unconscious now for the pain was excruciating. It was far worse than the cruciatus spell, worse than any physical torture that the Dark Lord could have possibly conducted. With the remaining strength he had left, he hid his memories of Dumbledore. He threw out the only other memory that he never wanted the Dark Lord to find, not because it would endanger the person within in, but for the same reason why he never wanted to mention Harry's parents to the boy.

Voldemort paused, coming across an image of a woman in Severus' mind. Severus' emotions mixed with his and he could see that she was beautiful with her flowing red hair and gem like eyes. Her green eyes were hypnotic, deep, and vibrant. He had seen her before, in his life and in his dreams. Lily Potter, the worthless mudblood that he had murdered in order to get to her son, to Harry Potter.

She had often haunted his dreams, her defiant eyes slit like demons, and her laughing mouth that poured out blood despite the fact that the Avada Kedavra left no such physical evidence. But unlike his dreams, Lily Potter looked human here. The Dark Lord watched as Severus looked at the girl with longing concealed behind a frown. The feelings here were ones of immense loss, agony, and a love unrequited. The Dark Lord had never felt such things, but he understood how such a weakness could drive others.

Voldemort pulled away with a sharp laughter that echoed in his tortured servant's skull. It hurt Severus to hear his feelings of love mocked, but what did it matter as long as he survived?

"That is why you begged me to spare her life?" The Dark Lord sneered. "I offered her life, but she cared more for that boy than she did for hers." Voldemort shook his head, surprised and amused, that his stoic potion master had harbored feelings for a mudblood. "It was for the best, Severus. She was a mudblood, and she got her wish. Her halfblood son still lives, after all."

Apparently, the revelation was just too amusing to the Dark Lord, but it didn't stop him from finishing whatever business he had to conclude with his self-serving Death Eater.

But Severus played his part well. He begged, he pleaded, he got on his knees to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes. It was flawless, his acting was perfection, but it took more than that to gain back the Dark Lord's favor, of course it did.

Luckily, this time the Dark Lord already knew what Severus needed to do to be once again in his good graces. First, he demanded a polyjuice potion. It was such a simple request that Severus had agreed without hesitation.

Voldemort had stared at him with approval, but disgusted by his subservience. "Not just any polyjuice, Severus. There are specific changes I want made to it." Severus listened intently, keeping a mental list and ticking off the conditions that he knew he could do and paying careful attention to those he would need to work on. He asked questions about the changes that would be difficult to integrate into the potion, but never asked for what reason. If there was one thing the Dark Lord would not take well to, it was for his underlings to question his authority, which is what he would see that as.

Just before he left, Voldemort paused, eying Severus' trembling form. "One last thing, Severus. There will be a meeting with Harry Potter in the gardens he so enjoys. Do not contact him before then."

When he was once again left alone in his rooms, Severus lingered in the after affects of the cruciatus curse, for the pain of betraying Lily, even if it was just her memory, was greater than the pain in his limbs. Exhausted, Severus held the memory of her tight in his mind, her smile, and her brilliant green eyes now shared with her son's.

_At least you saved your son again, Lily._ He whispered to her ghost.

* * *

After he had finished with Severus, Voldemort had other matters to attend to. It did not mean that he forgave his treacherous servant, but rather that the Dark Lord wanted more time to formulate a fitting justice. The demands he made of his Death Eater was only the beginning.

Voldemort did not publicly demote the potions master. He was more inclined to see how his lower ranked Death Eaters would attack the man after it was made clear that Severus no longer held his favor. Lower ranked Death Eaters were ambitions and eager to prove their worth. A member of the inner circle who procured the Dark Lord's ire would surely come under attack by those of lower rank.

It would also amuse him to see how Severus would fight for his place as an inner circle member. Yes, perhaps, that would be a good start to a more fitting punishment.

He turned all thoughts of vengeance aside when he reached the vampire quarters. The sun had just set hours ago, and still the vampires had not returned. They hadn't returned the night before, and Voldemort had waited with a patient understanding for the sun had just started to rise when the vampires retreated. Their speed was astounding and envious even to wizards who were capable to enhancing their physical traits.

They had sent out three vampires to hunt down their slave, just three. The other had remained and took the role of caretaker to the vampire child. It was to her that he took his demands.

He entered the rooms, not bothering to knock. Even if he had given these quarters to the vampires, Imperium Hold was still his no matter who inhibited the rooms.

He found the female guard awake with the childish vampire lord resting in her lap. She sang a strange melody, supposedly to comfort Lord Malachite who was still in discomfort.

"Where are they?" Voldemort demanded of the guard that regarded him with her blank green eyes. She sat with the vampire-child's head on her lap. Lord Malachite was trembling still though he was in a much better condition than yesterday. It only added more questions to the mystery of vampires. Voldemort did not like that they seemed to only be getting more and more questions and no answers. He would have to rectify that once the negotiations start again.

"They are not here yet," she replied in that monotonous tone that only further irritated the Dark Lord.

"Obviously. Where are they?" He snapped. Despite the frustration he worked off on Severus, he could feel it building up once again when interacting with these dead, unresponsive creatures. "They hadn't returned last night and there are things we must discuss."

"They'll be here," Griselda affirmed. Her eyes became unfocused and her hand stilled on the blond head. She blinked and was normal again. "They are close."

The Dark Lord couldn't fathom how Griselda was able to know. He wanted some answers and decided it was best to ask without Lord Jasper present.

"Your master," he said, indicating the resting child. "What happened to him that made him act like that?"

Griselda stared at him with hostility. She dared to say, "You ask for our secrets? Do you think I am a fool?"

"I will have an answer either way," the Dark Lord warned. "I was told that the vampires were fearsome, unstoppable, and yet I saw one of yours injured like any other mortal. I want to know these weaknesses, these things that would make someone like him," he nodded to Lord Malachite, "become incapacitated, if it can affect the rest of your kind."

Griselda still refused to speak, her mouth pressed into a thin line of stubbornness.

"It is because I was taken away," a voice behind him said. Voldemort turned, sneering until he realized that the vampires had returned. Lord Jasper and the slave, Harry Potter, stood side by side at the entrance to the vampire quarters.

Lord Jasper moved to kneel next to the sleeping form of the vampire child, beckoning Harry to come closer. Harry obeyed, walking towards the vampires and ignoring the Dark Lord as he passed. Voldemort could feel the magic around the boy, dark and unused, stronger now that its master was awake. His own magic called to it, but the slave didn't react as though he felt nothing at all.

The vampire lord had him sit next to the guard. The vampire ordered the slave, and he obeyed like a puppet whose strings were being pulled. It was degrading for a wizard to debase himself like so, especially one whose magic was so strong. Lord Jasper took the slave's hand to hold it near Malachite's mouth. Voldemort watched in morbid fascination as the vampire lord made a shallow cut with a dagger that Griselda handed to him.

The slave's blood welled to the surface and spilled onto the vampire child's mouth, awakening him and his hunger at the same time. Lord Malachite gave a gasp of surprise, but easily lapped at the blood that had fallen onto his lips. With dizzying speed, the small blond sat up and clung onto the slave ignoring the bleeding wrist. The small child's eyes had drifted open and Voldemort was disturbed to see clouded eyes lock onto the slave's. Staring at Voldemort, Lord Jasper frowned before his eyes flickered behind him.

Zephyr stepped between the dark wizard and his kin, using his body to shield the scene. He knew that the vampires liked to keep their secrets and he would allow them to do so, at least for now. Ruby eyes narrowing, Voldemort threw another glance at them before stating, "Tell your master that the next negotiations will be on my terms."

The guard gave no promise that he would do so, but nodded. Voldemort left, a strange displeasure coursing through his body. He did not enjoy seeing the boy being used in such a way, and he didn't understand why.

* * *

Unlike most of the days he'd visited the garden, the artificial sky was cloudy with wisps of gray that trailed across the setting sun. It would make sense since plants couldn't be expected to sprout under the constant harsh sunlight, but Harry still missed the light even if it was only different for that day. He had not expected to be in the gardens again.

Harry glanced back at the note he held in his hands. The parchment was different from what he was used to, which was the plain white paper that normal humans tended to use. The weight of it was different, heavier and more solid than the sheets of white that the vampires had adapted to. The texture was thicker, the color a creamy beige instead of the blank white.

However, it was the words on the page that had caught his interest. To Harry, the message was unimportant compared to the shape of the words. When he had first seen it, the careless loops and sharp points of the words that had caught his attention. He had seen beautiful handwriting before. The vampires made everything they owned beautiful, but there was something more to it. Even before seeing the initials signed at the bottom of the missive, Harry had known he would agree to meet its author.

Perhaps it made no sense to forgo the anger that was rightfully his just because he admired Snape's handwriting. The message contained more than words, and the feel of the author that wrote it was something else that didn't mesh with the image of Snape that Harry had. Besides, the anger was there. He did not forgive the wizard for his actions, but he also understood that part of the anger came from the blind trust he had placed in the wizard.

Malachite had not wanted him to go. His blind eyes had been beseeching and his small fingers grasped the fabric of his clothes as he asked Harry to stay and yet, he accepted the feelings Harry had when they were explained. Emotions were fleeting to the vampires and sometimes, they followed them where ever it took them. Malachite was able to understand this.

It was also a good sign that his illness was still holding off, at least for now. He doubted that the vampires would allow him to meet Snape alone if he had shown a worsening in health. They had not wanted him to meet the wizard alone, having become more cautious since he was taken. The guards had wanted to hide themselves away, but maintain a careful distance, close enough to intervene. He wanted to meet Snape alone. Griselda lurked somewhere in the shadows beyond the garden, not within watching distance as they had first wanted, but enough to satisfy their desires.

"Harry," a voice said behind him. It was Snape, his familiar dark timbre confirmed it.

He stiffened before he relaxed, turning to face the dark wizard that approached him. Harry regarded him with a cool gaze, showing that despite his acceptance to meet, he had not forgiven the other man for his transgressions.

"I am not here to ask forgiveness, though I acknowledge the error." Snape said, stopping at a distance. "But I do not think you should throw away this opportunity to learn wizarding magic just because of one wizard's foolish actions. It is your heritage, Harry."

Harry frowned. There was something strange about the way Snape was acting. Regardless, he replied, "It is my choice or not where I spend my time. I have already once told you that I am not interested in learning magic no matter that you claim it is my heritage."

"Have you ever cast a spell, Harry?" The wizard demanded. "Have you ever felt the magic sing as it comes alive in your blood instead of it being drained away?"

He shook his head. He didn't care and he had expected something more than this. This man was basically pleading for a case that Harry had no interest in. The beautiful shape of those words that shone in confidence had let him think that perhaps, Snape had more to him than the careful, sly character that he presented to Harry. He was disappointed to find it was not so, that the note had deceived him after all. Snape was just Snape, another wizard that bowed to a power greater than he.

"The negotiations," Snape stated. "They've included you amongst the things that Voldemort wants access to. The vampires have agreed that if you decide to visit the school and take lessons, that they would allow it." His dark eyes narrowed with displeasure, "But they've said you refused. Why waste this chance?"

But Harry was shaking his head, denying the statements. "Why does Voldemort show such an interest in me?" He asked.

Snape paused, gathering the best explanation he could explain. "When wizards as powerful as the Dark Lord grow in strength, they start to have a better sense of magic in others." With significance, he caught the slave's eyes, clarifying, "It's your magic that interests him and your ability to rebound the killing curse that was once thought to be unstoppable." He didn't include that sometimes, magic called to one another and that Harry's had definitely caught the Dark Lord's attention in that way too.

"Even if my magic was strong," Harry hypothesized, "He's a Dark Lord. I would be an novice compared to him, and I am just a slave."

Sensing that perhaps he could change the slave's mind, Snape carelessly said, "You can be so much more than a mere slave." It was not meant to insult, it was meant to encourage the boy to think of possibilities, of another path besides being under the hold of the vampires.

Harry jerked as though he were snapping out of a trance. The wizard in front of him, while he had backed off before, was pushing more and more. He had trusted him once, could he really do so again? No, he could not. There was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with the conversation, and more to do with the illness that had lain quiet for the past few days.

It reminded him that the vampires were all he had now. To leave them would be unthinkable. At this instant, he hated this man for leading him to think of a world away from the vampires.

"What don't you understand?" Harry demanded in anger as he folded his arms in a defensive pose. He clung to his decision with a strength that came from stubbornness. "I don't care about learning your magic. I don't care about being a wizard, and I don't _care_ about your world! Not even one little bit! So stop harassing me about the bloody issue. Just leave it be!"

Snape refused to listen. Harry could see it in the way the man continued to assess him, as though he were an ignorant child incapable to making his own decisions. They were at a standstill, with the wind rustling the leaves above them. The distance between them was more than physically seen. There was a chasm of misunderstanding that swallowed anything they tried to say to each other.

Magic, to Harry, was unnecessary while to someone like Snape, it was their entire life.

"This," Harry brought his hand to lightly touch the side of his neck, hidden away by a blue scarf. It didn't matter that there were no bite marks underneath. What mattered was the message he needed to get across to the stubborn wizard. "This is the world I choose to live in."

The wizard stiffened. He did not like to be reminded that Harry was a slave for the vampires. With a fierce smile of a predator smelling blood, Harry unwound the gauze around his wrist, offering the pale pink bite marks to the wizard. "They drink from me. I am _not_ a wizard."

Snape let out a silent snarl, the emotions in his dark eyes controlled with tight anger. Harry didn't expect the other man to stalk up to him, dark robes billowing around him like a gathering storm. There was nothing to fear, or so Harry told himself. He held his ground despite the fact he wanted to back away. Snape had never been so furious with him, so affected by his words to the point where he would confront them head on. The other wizard was more covert, using underhanded techniques like he had done the night of the kidnapping. He was not this dark, frightening man who tried to bully him with his height and sheer power which rippled around him as ominous and delicious as the vampires' allure.

His breath caught, the beating of his heart thumping against the bones of his ribs. Snape grabbed his wrists and ignoring the bite marks, overlapped his larger hands over Harry's. He forced their fingers to intertwine, dark eyes catching Harry's surprised gaze. His hands were warm and felt strange against his own.

"Tell me you don't want this." Then Snape did something that made the pounding of his heart seem like nothing compared to the roaring in his head. That darkness that followed Snape, that rose around him at his command moved now, traveling up the wizard's arms to their entwined hands. For a split second, he worried that the magic would hurt him, and then he felt it.

He gasped, feeling warmth travel between them, and spilling into his arms, and traveling through the veins of his body into his heart and limbs. It was euphoric, this warmth that was swelling in his chest, gathering in the palm of his hands. All the while, their gazes remained locked despite the fact that Harry was struggling to understand what he was feeling. Snape continued to gaze at him, dark eyes now glittering with fascination and expectation.

Harry tore his eyes away. The warmth in his hands was getting hotter now. A single spark came to life between their hands, a little twinkle of light that grew in heat and intensity. He marveled at the tiny thing, a small yellow flame between their palms. It had come from him, Harry knew this. Snape had only pushed his magic into his hands, forcing an excess amount so that Harry had to do _something_ with it. This had come from him, from Harry, this tiny flame that danced and existed because of _him_.

He inhaled and exhaled hard, the magic in his _hands_ was unlike anything he ever felt before. Warm, like sunlight, and he controlled it. The flame had grown now, into a fiery orb of gold and orange, not one color or the other, but a changing mix of both. It grew and grew. Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's, the green of them glowing with amazement. The ball of fire pulsed, giving a small ominous thrill.

Snape's eyes snapped to the fire between their hands before he cursed. Harry followed his gaze, eyes widening as the warmth suddenly _burned_. He cried out in pain and Snape forced their hands to throw the fireball into the magical tree which shrieked as it impacted. Regardless of its small size, the fireball devoured the magical tree with licks of flame and embers before burning out with a hiss.

They were both breathing hard, though Harry had collapsed on his knees, holding his aching hands to his chest. Snape gazed at the ruined magical tree with apprehension and growing excitement. It shouldn't have done that. He had controlled the amount of magic he forced into the boy, had controlled the way it was building, and was controlling the magnitude of power in the spell. It should not have gone awry, unless... He looked down at the still form of the vampire slave. Something had influenced it, had changed it so that his control had not been enough.

Harry stared as his palms healed, holding them close to his body so that the wizard could not see. They had barely touched the edges of the glowing orb, only close enough to feel its warmth become an uncomfortable heat before Snape had released it. He turned to the tree, seeing its burnt remains glowing orange still and the smoke that billowed into the air.

He forced himself to get up. Harry was done with this. Snape had forced him to do magic and as good as it had felt then, he knew that it was something he did not want to learn. In the back of his mind, a voice told him that to do so would lead him away from the vampires. He did not want that.

Without a word, he started to walk away from the wizard. He had agreed to the meeting despite the anger that still simmered in his heart. He did not need to excuse himself to leave this wizard behind.

A harsh hand had grabbed his arm, impeding him from leaving. The vampire slave whirled around to face Snape who he had expected to take the result of this mess as a message that clearly, Harry was not meant to do magic. His attempt to bow out gracefully had irritated the wizard. With cool eyes that looked strange on his countenance, Harry glared at him, stopping the desire that made him want to yank his arm out of Snape's grasp.

"Where do you think you're going?" The voice that spilled out of Snape's mouth was one tightly controlled, but didn't hide the threat behind it. Harry was surprised and somewhat offended that even after the drugging and this disaster, that the wizard would expect more of him.

"To the vampires," he said coldly, green eyes narrowing. The wind blew around them, ruffling his black hair so that the faint curse scar shone briefly before covered again. Snape's hand tightened then relaxed. With a strength that surprised Harry, he pulled the boy close, his other hand grasping at the black hair at the base of his head and painfully yanking it back so that the pale white of his neck was exposed. The blue scarf slipped down, revealing unmarked skin free of bites. The unexpected sight made the wizard smile in triumph.

Ignoring Harry's pained sound, Snape let go of the slave's hair to brush away the offending fringe that covered the scar. There was a rising emotion that was foreign to him. It angered him, enraged him, filling him with feelings that were strange and yet exhilarating. He leaned closer, seeing the vibrant green of his eyes which were dilated from the pain even as they glared at him.

"Are you their whore?" The wizard hissed, disgust and desire building in the pit of his stomach. To be used in such a way by bloodsucking leeches was disgusting. He had seen the way they treated their slaves, different from just food sources. No, it was like they continued to exercise their allure despite the poison their fangs pumped into their victim to make them more pliant, more obedient... more mindless. With sensual touches and enticing words, the vampires sunk their fangs into flesh. And the slaves reveled in it, eyes wide with pain, yet, their hands grasped onto the vampire as though they never wanted them to stop; they wanted to be sucked dry of blood. They were addicted to the pleasure and pain from the bites, like whores.

He expected the boy to try to wrench away in fury, to deny it vehemently. His own pride would refuse to take such an insult, especially since Harry was so enamored with the vampires.

He didn't do either. His eyes fluttered closed and Snape was further enticed to realize that the pain was welcomed to this boy. He tightened his grip and Harry whimpered, reaching up with trembling hands to touch Snape's face. His fingertips were cool to the touch, like the kiss of rain.

Snape leaned further, entranced by the beauty of this creature who so easily submitted to his touch. Just as their lips were about to touch, Harry swallowed uneasily, whispering, "Not a whore, no."

Harry shot out his hand, landing a blow on Snape's stomach. With a gasp, he let go of the boy falling to his knees on the grass. Harry watched him with detached interest, rubbing at the base of his neck where cruel fingers had tugged. Having the air punched out of him, the injured wizard gasped, fighting away a sense of nausea.

By the time he recovered, the boy was already gone. He should be infuriated that the little imp had harmed him, but he was more fascinated. Having interacted with wizards for most of his life, he wasn't used to physical fighting. He shook his head, feeling somewhat amused. Taunting the boy and insulting him may have crossed the line, but he was intrigued to find that the more information he found only led him to become further fascinated by the slave.

Pushing away the greasy locks of hair that had fallen into his face, he laughed in amusement before standing. He made his way to the study for he was tired of this facade. He took one of the portals that many of the Death Eaters feared using and arrived, seeing the familiar map of Dumbledore's travels pointed in blue dots around the continents. For once, he ignored it in favor of the figure that was already waiting impatiently in the one of armchairs.

Severus Snape, having waited patiently for the Dark Lord to return from his meeting with the boy, stood as his imposter entered the room. It was so strange to see another of himself standing in front of him, like a dark doppelganger that neither followed or imitated his actions.

He held out the tiny vial that contained a thick black liquid that looked like mud. He remembered the Dark Lord's demands that were made when he first handed over the polyjuice potion.

"_Do you have it, Severus?" The Dark Lord's ruby red eyes were alight with excitement. Severus shuddered, for he knew that Voldemort would be pleased if the polyjuice was completed, but would still be pleased if he had failed. If he had, then it would be yet another reason to punish him._

_With steady hands, he presented the polyjuice to his master. The demands that Voldemort had wanted was the ability to return to his original form with the incantation of a spell. While Severus believed he would be able to achieve the affect, a modified version of polyjuice, especially one that had experimented changes, would not have been ready in time. The normal brewing of polyjuice itself required several months of careful processing and timing to complete. With Severus' expertise, he could confidently brew the potion within a month, but with experimental modifications? He dared not present the Dark Lord with a modified polyjuice that could possibly have undesirable affects. He had told all this to the Dark Lord, who on that day, had been lenient enough to accept._

_He had just been about to leave, his hand already turning the doorknob when Voldemort's voice stopped him. "Severus."_

_He turned, feeling a sense of dread. Perhaps he had not gotten off as easily as he thought._

_The Dark Lord walked towards him, holding the potion carelessly in his grasp. His smile was twisted. "I require one more thing."_

_Severus held so very still as the Dark Lord raised his hand towards the potion master's face. The Dark Lord plucked a strand of hair, grimacing at the thought. He dropped it into the vial of potion, watching as it dissolved and turned into a gray color. Voldemort smirked, walking towards the door that Severus had been about to exit from._

"_Until I return, you are to stay here in these rooms." He drank the potion so quickly that he couldn't taste the essence of the polyjuice potion. Severus watched, disturbed, as the features of the Dark Lord changed, arranging itself to imitate his own features. Soon, he had been staring at his exact replica and with horror he realized that Dark Lord intended to take his place all this time._

_The door shut, locking from the outside as Voldemort left._

Voldemort snatched the potion from him, swallowing the contents in a single gulp. The effect was slow, having been an experimental potion that Severus only perfected two days ago, and fool proofed by yesterday night. Sallow skin turned into a healthier pale, the kind of skin that saw sunlight more often than Severus did, having spent most of his time in the dungeons brewing. The features of his face were more pointed, more aristocratic like the Malfoys'. The dark black coloring of Severus' eyes was sucked into the pupil, leaving a vibrant red in its place.

Lord Voldemort stood once again in his own skin, the curve of his lips telling the state of his mood much more effectively than any words could say. The meeting had gone well, Severus hesitatingly concluded.

Cautiously, Severus asked, "How was the meeting with the boy, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord only smirked, saying one word, "Enlightening."


	8. Knowledge Seeker

A/N: Gah, I really shouldn't be putting up this chapter but it's been so long Ty to Ann10550 who beta'd this for me months ago and for SilverHineko for her valuable input on the story :D Also 3 to everyone that has reviewed and is putting up with my extreme incompetency at backing up. For anyone that clicked on this chapter earlier to find that it was gone... oops! sorry, formatting needed fixing :x

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Chapter 7: Knowledge-Seeker

_Above her throne was a painted portrait. He had heard that it had once been a painting of the Queen herself, with her regal blue eyes catching the gazes of those who looked upon her. It was also said that the portrait had been a source of assurance when the Queen had fled into deep sleep years ago. Her presence had been a faint murmur in her people's minds, so soft that they had feared she would never rouse from her grief induced slumber. Death, then, had seemed so very close at hand for the vampire race, with Mother slowly turning to a dry husk of ancient bones and leathery skin. But that was long ago, and they no longer needed the painting to remind them of the Queen who was very much active in their lives. The painted canvas that now replaced it was done in dark oils, the only noticeable color being red._

_The light of the moon illuminated the scene, bringing to light a young girl who shone like a precious jewel. The moonlight itself seemed to center on her, holding its light for her alone. She was barely touching adulthood, and was forever captured in the lines and sweeps of color that the artist had created. Centered in a darkened garden, the young woman was situated on a stone bench though it looked as though she floated on a cloud of silken red. Her face was turned away, her pale cheek which was dusted a light pink hue, was nuzzled against the blossoms that reached out towards her. A slender hand was outstretched to cup a flower, fingers touching the soft velvet petals by just the tips. Wisps of hair could not hide the beauty that the artist was able to capture. The wavy mass of silken strands spilled down her back, mingling with the red of her dress._

_Forever lost, his brothers and sisters whispered out of the Queen's hearing. They did not whisper out of fear in triggering the Queen's grief. Rather, they had done so out of respect for her mourning and for their own. They mourned, though it was more of an echo of sadness when compared to Mother's emotions. It is only when something is lost that its true value is known. To lose such beauty, such a rare jewel of their kind, it was very sad._

_But that was not why he was here now._

_He knelt at the Queen's feet with a bowed head, his long hair falling to sweep the floor. He kept his eyes trained on the ground for looking into the Queen's eyes without her permission would cause an outrage amongst the gathered community._

"C_hilde," her voice echoed. It was cold and formal, the way a queen was supposed to be. Her cool fingers swept his cheek to touch the point of his chin. With the slightest pressure from her fingers, he lifted his head and became caught in the maelstrom of power that he found in the very blue of her eyes._

_They were glacial, sharp, and brilliant. He knew that they could easily steal away his soul. "You are one of us." She said in her clear voice. The gathered vampires dared not utter a word against her. Her eyes left his to stare across her subjects, assessing and displeased, but she was in a playful mood today. She did not punish them for their thoughts, thoughts that she heard like a incessant buzzing in the back of her mind. She gazed at them, saying, "There are those foolish enough to doubt my judgment. So it is a test, little one, this shall be your Trial."_

_Once again their gazes locked, and he couldn't do anything but surrender to her sweet power. He gave himself willingly, feeling her warm arms around him though neither of them had moved. He had seen it in her eyes, and now he could feel it. Her power, massive and all encompassing, pressed against him, cradling him like his mother's arms that he no longer remembered. It was warm, like the sunlight that they were denied, and it flooded him, overriding his senses like sweet wine. It gave him power and courage, unlike anything he ever experienced before._

"_Do you accept?" She crooned to him, to the gathered audience. Her sweet voice echoed in the giant expanse of the room as his brothers and sisters eagerly waited._

_He sighed, entranced. "Yes, my Queen." She let go, hand falling away as she turned._

"_Then it is decided." She sat back on her throne, the golden fabric of her silken dress fallen into flattering folds around her slim figure. She entwined her fingers together in her lap._

_Her eyes were hooded as they watched his still kneeling form. "Your task..." She began with a smile that showed the long curve of her ivory fangs. With deadly intent, she commanded, "Kill my daughter's guardian."_

_His head bowed even further in obedience, but all that watched could see the Queen's eyes were growing cold with fury, the colored iris fading to a chilled blue while the golden color of her hair faded to a brilliant silver. She looked like ice, frozen in time like the portrait above her. She brought a hand to her chest, fingertips grazing the flesh where her unbeating heart laid as though it ached. _

_Her lips parted, and they all shivered to hear her voice in their minds as it echoed in the vast expense of the room. "Vengeance, it is my desire... he who gained our trust and betrayed us. Spill his blood until it no longer flows. Blood for blood, life for life." Her eyes once again locked with her son's and he had to clamp his mouth shut as he felt her lust for revenge. He felt his fangs cut into his lip as the hunger, sudden and urgent, tore his control apart. He wasn't the only one for all the others fell to their knees, crying out in hunger, for her hunger that she unleashed on them._

_She stood, the silver turned back into gold. She turned away from them, walking a few steps with only the soft rustle of her dress as it trailed behind her. Her children watched her, fangs elongated, faces filled with a life only she could call in them._

_She stopped. She didn't need to face them to capture their attention. All eyes were on the Queen, their Mother. She was so beautiful, she was their life, their death, anything she wanted, they would give to her. "One of our daughters were taken away from us. We should rejoice, and yet I mourn... I grieve, I suffer. We've received a son in return, but we do not forget. Every blood shed by one, is shed by all. Carry out your duty, my sweet childe. You shall have no objections on your return."_

_

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_

"You have decided then?" Jasper asked, showing only the slightest bit of concern in the answer. Every servant that had accompanied them was waiting in a single line. They were all pale and smitten with the vampire that inspected them so carefully. Jasper's gaze assessed them, sometimes for just a moment or lingering in appraisal.

On the small coffee table in between them laid an unfolded sheet of parchment. The confident loops and spikes of dark ink gave meaning to an invitation made to Harry alone. It was a tour to the Arcanum Academy, scheduled just a few hours before sunset, a few hours before the vampires would awaken. It didn't matter whether it was pure coincidence or a carefully though out plan to exclude the vampires, Jasper had left the decision solely to Harry.

Harry lounged on the couch, body sluggish and relaxed. Jasper paid him no attention, instead continuing to examine the submissive servants with a faint grimace.

"I will go." Harry shrugged. Jasper gave a deceptive smile as he caught the eye of a blonde servant who lowered her eyes demurely. He silently beckoned her with a graceful hand. Those at her side nudged her forward, and she looked up with a hopeful glance. The others knew better than to voice their disappointment. They dispersed, returning to their rooms, but not without shooting the blonde an envious glance.

Obediently, she stepped forward with a bright smile, already starting to unwind the silk scarf that was around her neck.

Jasper stood, walking slowly around the slave who had started to tremble in excitement. He took hold of her slim wrist. Her skin was unblemished and pale, almost translucent with the blue of her veins just a teasing hint underneath the flesh. He lifted the back of her hand to his face as though to kiss it, but instead he breathed in deeply the scent of naturally clean skin, free of those annoying fragrances that most humans enjoyed.

He then caressed her cheek, catching her gaze with his. Staring into the vampire's honey colored eyes, the servant became mesmerized. With a devious smile, Jasper noted the effects as the girl continued to stare into his eyes. The trembling had ceased. She looked up at him with dewy brown eyes with such a hopeful expression that one would think the vampire was her savior. He pulled her closer, and she came willingly. He could feel her chest rise and fall in a slow steady rhythm as her eyes fluttered closed, and the servant tilted her head in offering. He brush her hair aside to reveal her unblemished neck, the thrumming of life in her arteries like a beacon that called out to him.

Jasper leaned down, sighing against her skin as he pressed his lips against her neck in a kiss.

The girl felt the sharp point of teeth before she jerked in pain, moaning in pleasure as fangs slid into flesh. Her arms stayed limp at her sides even as Jasper maneuvered her body, like a doll, to get a better angle at the wound. Harry watched impassively as Jasper fed, feeling his heart thud in a most disconcerting way. After a few minutes of drinking deeply, the vampire pulled away with a satisfied sigh, wiping away the drops of blood that stained his mouth. The girl was limp, fevered eyes fixed on the vampire even as one arm lifted to touch his face in a moment of delusion. She let her arm fall, it was enough to gaze upon him. Her energy was depleted, swallowed by the creature that held her so gently with great deception.

With reddened fingers and a wicked grin, he turned to Harry. "Would you like a taste?" He offered, already knowing the answer. The drops of blood gleamed in the light, the scent tainting the air with its metallic aroma.

Harry stared at the drops of blood before he silently declined with a shake of his head.

Jasper smirked, licking the drops. He cut his finger on his fang, his own blood replacing that which he cleaned. He turned back to the girl that he was supporting with his other hand. Often, the servants would go weak in the knees either from pleasure or the blood loss. After he had fed, he could have slashed her neck open and the girl would have most likely just fallen to the floor and continued to stare at him in desire. She would have bled to death, forever wishing for just one more bite. The vampire lord had done it before, once upon a time when human suffering was entertaining by itself.

The girl he had played with eons ago, while he didn't care to remember what she looked like, had looked up at him with the same expression as this one. Her blood had flowed from her wound, the life draining from her eyes even as her hands reached out to him, and her lips implored his name instead of the God that her townspeople worshiped. As a newly turned, with a name that he no longer remembered, Jasper had watched the girl bleed to death, watched as the blood painted her pretty flesh. Sadly, he no longer found it as amusing as it was before.

The girl in his arms quivered. He turned his attention back to her. Blood continued to slowly seep out of her bite wounds, small rivulets in comparison to the streams that he remembered in his memory. Already, there was a thin trail that snaked its way down her neck, slowly sliding down into the valley between her small breasts.

With a smile that was meant for no one, but for the fact that he was temporarily sated, he brought blood stained fingers to her neck.

"Ma-master!" She stammered in surprise, seeing stained fingered. Jasper froze. The girl's utterance had ruined it, destroyed the feeling of satisfaction that her blood had brought. Harry's eyes darted to the mortified girl.

"I...I am sorry!" The servant stuttered. Her eyes flitted to his, like that of a frightened bird, before dropping to the ground in fear. "It will not-!"

"Silence." Jasper interrupted with a sneer. "Do not arrogantly presume such assumptions. Do you think you are worthy?"

She trembled in distress, hands shielding her neck even as she kept her eyes firmly away from his. "No, no, no... I am not worthy." She begged. "But please... The bite..."

Jasper's lips curled in contempt. He relaxed his hold on her for his grip had tightened in his outrage.

"Ah yes, the bite. You wishes to keep it? Perhaps as a remembrance?" He released her though his anger was an tangible force that surrounded him. He waved his hand towards the closed doors, almost too fast for her to have noticed the gesture. "Leave. You've displeased me."

"Thank you." She murmured as she fled the room. He turned back to Harry who watched with an unreadable expression.

As though nothing had occurred, he offered his fingers once more. This time, the dark red of vampire blood stained those digits. "Still no? It is delicious, I promise," he teased.

"Your cruelty betrays your kindness, my Lord." Zephyr commented as he entered the room with Argenta following behind. With a smile, Jasper cleaned his fingers clean of vampire blood. "To tease our Harry with such temptation. He will surely be displeased."

"It is because Casimir is not here that I play so daringly." Jasper replied with a practiced smile.

Zephyr inclined his head in understanding. The travels from home to the wizard world had made them all aware of each vampire's quirks and desires. Instead, his eyes briefly darted to the servant's rooms, before he said, "You should not coddle them."

"Do not lecture me, young one," the vampire lord warned with a hint of violence. Zephyr stilled, then knelt in apology, "I meant no offense." It was silent for a moment, but before it stretched out too long, the vampire lord accepted with a brush of his fingers against the bowed head.

"A new donor." Jasper dismissed offhandedly as he walked back towards the table showing them the letter with a careless movement of his hand. "She will learn or leave." He released it, allowing the parchment to carelessly slip from his fingers.

Before it touched the ground, Argenta had taken hold of it. Zephyr, not wanting to read over her shoulder, waited patiently.

"This is...?" Argenta wondered, sharp eyes scanning the contents. She brought the letter to her face, inhaling the scent of its writer along with ink and parchment. Her face betrayed no emotion with whatever she found there.

"The wizards have found our Harry," Jasper dramatically said, his tone dripping with fake distress. He flopped onto the cushions, crossing his legs as he got comfortable. He did not touch the watching boy, instead giving him a bright smile that flashed his sharp fangs.

"Your answer?" Argenta turned to face Harry, curiosity hidden in the depths of glowing silver.

"I agreed to go." Harry replied quietly. There was no acknowledgment of his answer other than the inclination of her head. Zephyr, however, looked positively delighted at the news.

"We must not tell the little one then," Zephyr commented as he sat down next to the boy, throwing a casual arm over Harry's shoulders. He caught hold of the blue scarf that covered Harry's neck, smirking as he fingered the material. He carefully tugged on it, bringing their heads closer together to whisper quietly into Harry's ear despite the fact that all could hear.

Harry made a sound of protest as he felt Zephyr's breath on his ear, green eyes imploring Lord Jasper to control the guard. Jasper only gave a smile in return.

Zephyr whispered. "Would he throw a fit, do you think? Little Mally, that is, if you were to disappear in the hours before sunset?" He silenced the boy before he could reply, placing a single finger on Harry's closed lips, imitating the human's signal for secrecy.

"Shh. It is our secret."

* * *

Draco Malfoy admired his reflection, his gray eyes assessing every fold and line of the robes that he currently wore. It looked perfect, and why wouldn't it? Draco himself was perfection and even more so in the dark blue robes. The Malfoy crest was stitched on his breast and on the sleeves of his robes, but he didn't need them to distinguish himself from the other students. The Malfoy name was one of prestige, linked closely with the Dark Lord's name and therefore, his favor.

Overall, he looked like what every aspiring young wizard was supposed to look like: confident, well-groomed, and absolutely stunning.

He never looked anything less than perfect for his robes were always flattering. He finished the last touches on his hair with a quick incantation that gave it the perfect glossy shine he wanted. Draco wondered though why his father had emphasized the importance of what he was to do today. Perhaps it was related to the gossip that had spread like wildfire in his school and in the social setting.

He heard from the circulating rumors that there was a Potter back in England. It was preposterous for the notorious wizard known as Dumbledore and his followers had either fled from the Dark Lord's might or cowered under his rule. The Potter family, while an influential family years ago, had fallen from the pureblood society due to their own blunders. The last heir, James Potter, had decided to dirty himself with a mudblood. It made Draco want to scourgify his hands, the thought of such filth mucking up the bloodlines.

He brushed the thoughts aside. Draco also heard the whispers that said the Dark Lord had found a wizard amongst the vampires' slaves. Now that rumor was infinitely more interesting than rumors of a Potter. After all, that possibility would only cause more trouble for him and his family, but an enslaved wizard? Definitely more interesting.

According to rumors, the Dark Lord Voldemort had valiantly decided to fight for the poor soul, demonstrating his power over even creatures that were the darkest of the dark, soulless terrors that used to prey on wizard-kind eons ago. The younger witches swooned over his strength and his determination to fight for wizard rights, and even the older married matrons of pureblood society twittered in gossip. It was almost like a fairytale, the valiant knight righteously saving the damsel. Or at least that's how the lovesick witches viewed the tale. Draco knew better, as his father taught him better, that such actions would only be taken if it was beneficial to their side.

Draco didn't care what happened to the slave, if there was one, as long as their master's sharp fangs never came anywhere near his neck.

He checked the time with a quick spell. Fifteen minutes left… this which was plenty of time to make his way to the other wing. He took a few extra minutes to check his robes, perfect, shoes, perfect, and overall appearance, which was also perfect.

The Dark Lord had excused him from classes to personally handle this assignment that required his specific qualifications, or so the missive had said. It had come soaring on the wings of a great horned owl, the dark mark stamped clearly on the melted black wax. Draco had received a similar letter last night from his father. When the headmaster called him to his office, Draco had stood, walking towards the exit with an arrogant swagger and a knowing smirk.

This was a special project from the Dark Lord. His father was always scheming to elevate their status, especially Draco's reputation since he would soon be graduating. He took his time walking to the west wing with confident strides and head held high. The Death Eaters that Draco passed along the way nodded to him respectfully when they caught sight of the Malfoy crest tailored into his dark expensive robes. As he entered into the west wing, he could feel a prickling of unease as though there were watchful eyes on his person, scrutinizing his every move.

A discrete survey of his surroundings showed his sudden sense of paranoia to be unfounded.

Regaining his composure, he knocked on the door, waiting impatiently though there was no outward sign of it.

A boy, his age or perhaps younger, answered. The first thing that Draco noticed about him was how ghastly pale his skin was. Draco himself was pale, but his skin was healthy and clear, the result of various sun protection spells. This boy reminded him of his godfather, whose pasty white skin was the result of being entombed in the darkness of the dungeons away from the touch of light. He took in the rest of the boy, hiding another grimace as he saw the mop of black hair that grew wildly from the boy's head. Bed hair, as he liked to call it. Then again, he eyed the attire the boy was currently wearing. Colorful, loose clothing, and a blue gauzy scarf wrapped around his neck. From the ruffled mess that was his hair, Draco concluded that the boy had just woken up.

They then locked gazes, and Draco stared. He had never seen such a brilliant shade of green in his life. It reminded him of newly born leaves in the spring as the sunlight illuminated them. Fresh and bright, that was what this boy's eyes reminded him of. They were almost hypnotic, the way he could get lost in those green depths. With slight effort, Draco pulled his attention away, not wanting to appear rude despite the fact that this boy was obviously part of the help that came with the vampires.

"I am Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself, completely at ease as though visiting these rooms reserved specifically for the vampires' feeding snacks was an everyday occurrence. "I am here as a guide to Arcanum Academy." He checked the time once again, noting that it may still be too early. The sun wouldn't set for a couple of hours or so, but his father had explicitly written that it would be best to go at this time. It confused him a little, but perhaps the relationship between the vampires and the sun was mythical after all. His father hadn't rectified this delusion and neither did the literary sources, but it was the only conclusion he could come up with. His father had written: Vampires are very possessive creatures who didn't like having members of their nest separated from the others no matter how indifferent they seem. Punctuality is key in this issue, for returning your guest even a minute late would surely rouse their ire.

The way Draco imagined it; he would promptly arrive at the servants' quarters at the correct time, charmingly introduce himself to his vampire guest, perhaps spend some time talking so that he'd have a lot of delicious bits of gossip, and then be on their way to the Academy where he could show off his importance. Since their arrival, the vampires had secluded themselves in the safety of Imperium Hold by their own choice and that of the Dark Lord's. He didn't care much for their presence, besides what they could do for the Dark Lord or his family, but he knew that his peers would be envious of his current position.

The general population was still generally misguided, having only encounters with the beastly cousins of the vampires that now resided in Imperium Hold. Draco, however, was not like the general population. As soon as their appearance, his father had quickly educated their family on what little information he was able to buy or bribe from tight lipped sources. There was still much they didn't know, but Draco had an advantage compared to other wizards.

For a moment, the boy looked slightly hesitant before he nodded, and then opened the door wider to admit Draco into the quarters.

The room inside was large, with a high ceiling and a modest chandelier that gave just enough light to comfortably illuminate the room. It was nothing extravagant, nothing like the manor that his family luxuriously lived in. Comfortable red couches lined the walls of the room, the walls decorated just enough that it looked pleasing to the eye instead of cluttered.

Besides the two of them, the room was empty. No other servants were present, though Draco knew there was more than this one boy that watched him with curiosity.

"I am Harry," the boy said, as he walked to one of the doors. The way he walked caught Draco's eye and he wondered if it was natural grace or a pale imitation of his masters' that caused him to move in such a way. He pushed the thoughts aside, deciding to focus on his goal instead of some lowly servant. He was probably not even worth more than a mudblood.

"Where is your master?" Draco asked. Normally, this question would be considered rude, but he had learned that servants of vampires cared little for anything besides their masters. Small talk or anything like that, would quickly lose their interest and they'd eventually just come to ignore any form of communication. Draco didn't like to admit it even to himself, but the thought was slightly disturbing. For a person to be so obsessed as to forget themselves? He couldn't imagine living a life where his only ambition was to please another. Perhaps that was why this boy was fated to be a slave, and Draco was not.

This encounter was different than he thought it would be though, having expected a vampire slave to be completely unconcerned and more mindless in their responses.

The green eyes that watched him was not one of a mindless drone, but was filled with emotion though they were muted as though veiled beneath a layer of distrust for the world in general. "Lord Malachite is resting." Harry answered after a brief moment of silence. "I will be only a minute, I was told that I'm not allowed to leave in this…" He gestured to his clothing, "… attire." He shrugged as though it didn't matter at all to him.

A word of surprise had almost slipped out of his mouth before Draco caught himself. His quick mind had absorbed all the clues in that one sentence so that all he did was nod as the slave left the room. He sat down on the couch, his mind slowly becoming irritated. Another part of him was fascinated, but he allowed his irritation to overrun any other emotion.

He was supposed to show a slave around the Academy? His future plans of gloating to be the only one in the Academy to have interacted with the vampires was obliterated at the slam of the door. Surely, he would have to write to his father for an explanation. Surely... his father wouldn't waste his time with something so unimportant?

Harry eyed the dark green robes in distaste. They were too bothersome, the material and style too foreign on his skin.

On the breast of the robes was an ugly emblem, that of a gaping skull with a hissing snake pouring out of its mouth to curl up and over the top of its head. He knew it was the mark of the Dark Lord, and even understood that wearing such an attire meant he'd be protected by the populace that he may run into while being led around the wizard school. Still, he did not like being claimed by these wizards, even if it was as simple as a mark on the clothes he wore.

As Harry stood in front of the mirror, he felt less like himself and more like a stranger. It wasn't just the wizard robes that made him feel like this, but the physical changes brought by the illness.

It was miraculous that he had held out so long without a remission. He feared that it would not continue, he knew for a fact that it would soon show itself. The weakness in his limbs, the feeling in the back of his throat, and the slight fevers that would worsen each night were not dismissible. He was gradually becoming more tired. The harsh rays of the sun only confirmed this. He had also lost more weight, he could see it in the sharper features of his face. The sickness would come back stronger with a vengeance as was the pattern. No amount of wizard potions would repress what was naturally happening.

Harry viewed the illness with a sense of excitement and dread. Death, the vampires' only master and the Queen's fabled lover... would he come for Harry once the illness caught hold of him? He breathed in deeply, inhaling the faint scent of magic that lingered in the room, that lingered everywhere he went since he entered this place. His hand reached up, touching the warm red gem that hung from his ear. With a stronger resolution, Harry stepped out to join his chosen guide, Draco Malfoy as the wizard introduced himself.

As his guide, Harry wondered if they were trying to tell him that this is what he could be. Draco really was the ideal wizard that Harry was sure many aspired to be. Surely, a slave would embrace the opportunity to attain such an elevation in status.

Harry stared at his bare wrists, imagining the shackles that the wizards believed enslaved him. The truth was there was nothing that bound him, but they could not see that. The wizards only knew what they saw and to all appearances, Harry was nothing but a slave, a project to undertake to salve their own bruised egos. Picking up the light green scarf from its place on the bed, Harry thoughtlessly wound it around his neck haphazardly.

Wizards as slaves? The very thought must be nauseating to them. Harry's lips quirked into a smirk. He shook his head slightly before opening the door, his expression falling into one of indifference. It was hard to maintain the expression when he was that Draco was stiff with uncertainty.

Upon their initial introduction, Draco had obviously concluded that Harry was far beneath his rank and was therefore insignificant. Something about that had irritated Harry or perhaps it was the wizard's haughty arrogance that he wanted to see shatter in an explosion of shards and dust, like glass flung at a wall.

Draco was beyond pleased to see their travel arrangements. Waiting at the entrance of the castle was a carriage with two gleaming white pegasus. The two winged horses were not able to fly with the carriage attached to their harnesses and were therefore, more for show than anything else. And they were a beautiful site to behold, one that Draco was sure his fellow peers only caught glimpses of whenever Dark Lord Voldemort visited the school. Their coats were a pure white, shining like ground diamonds even in the setting light of the sun. Their hooves looked to be made of stardust, and the powerful muscles that lined their bodies only hinted at the strength they contained. So rare were these creatures that Draco was surprised to see that the Dark Lord had ordered them prepared for a slave and a student. It only further spiked his curiosity in Harry.

Normally, students didn't use this mode of transportation. They usually took carriages drawn by thestrals, but this personal mode of transportation was courtesy of the Dark Lord.

All the while, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two passengers. Draco took in every detail of the vampire slave, his curiosity piqued once he got over his embarrassment and irritation. He had already set it to mind to contact his father and now he wanted to dissect this mystery.

Harry looked outside the window, leaning on one hand as he stared at the passing scenery. Draco had come to expect the indifference and lack of emotion that his father warned him of, but to be subjected to it in person was different than he expected. He also felt there was more to this facade that the other boy wore. There were emotions in his eyes, hints to a person, which was the opposite of what his father told him of the vampire servants.

Not only that, but he was used to being fawned over. His peers were constantly trying to gain his favor and were always competing for his attention as though it were a great prize. To be ignored in such a way, it was different and strangely annoying.

He refused to have this continue.

Harry stared out the window. They were passing Hogsmeade Village. He could see the top of the buildings from this distance. They would arrive at the Academy in due time. He would be shown the rooms and a brief tour which would show all the so called interesting subjects that he would miss out on because he refused to leave his masters. Honestly, Harry just wanted the entire affair to be done and over with. Getting entangled in the matters of wizards was not what he had come here for.

The silence was broken when Draco finally asked, "Are you a wizard?" Harry turned away from the scenery, tilting his head in a questioning manner. With a cool look, Draco continued, "My father told me that there was a wizard amongst the slaves. Seeing as you are not what I expected..." His gaze swept Harry from head to toe, making it obvious that he thought it an insult. "You must be the fabled enslaved wizard that came with the vampires."

"If you say so." Harry shrugged before turning back to the window. He wondered what else the other boy would ask, but continued to act indifferent. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Draco grimaced, as though tasting something unpleasant.

"My father did warn me that your kind is likely to be apathetic." Draco mused to the other boy. "I just don't understand how though. How could you care so much about vampires?"

Harry continued to ignore him. Draco grew even more irritated.

"This must be a rare occurrence for you, to be away from them. You have the opportunity to learn about our culture," Draco prompted. "It really is a beautiful world we live in, much better than the muggles."

"I have no interest in wizards." Harry flatly replied. Draco stared at him in aghast, taken aback by the blunt statement. Despite the warnings, the thought was just simply too unbelievable to comprehend. This forward statement of rejection was like a blow to his pride. It was his very culture and therefore the essence of what made him who he was... for it to be so cruelly dismissed was almost unbearable.

It sparked a flame of anger in him that was unlike anything he ever experienced. Indignation made his face flush an unbecoming hue of red.

"Have you even seen what we are capable of?" Draco demanded as he leaned forward. "There are spells for just about everything! Our magic lets us do anything within reason and even some that muggles would think as miracles. We can ease pain with a flick of our wands or bring it with a curse from our lips. There's so much you don't know about our heritage and you would throw it away?"

Harry turned to face him, expression blank and controlled. Like speaking to a child, he said, "Do you know anything about where I come from? You talk about stopping pain or giving it, it is not an uncommon thing. The vampires can steal away lives or they can give it for eternity. Can the wizards do the same?"

They stared at each other, both challenging before Draco conceded with a nod of his head. He knew more than the average wizard when it came to vampire, but he was sorely lacking on their culture. He sensed an opportunity, one that would be highly beneficial to him. Repressing the desire to continue the argument, he admitted, "I don't know that much about vampire culture."

He almost smiled to see the triumph in those green eyes, but instead moved closer instead of leaning back to disguise his interest. Draco gave a half smile, explaining, "I've only heard the silly talk that witches tend to gossip about and that rubbish is usually from muggle culture. Novels and books about vampires and its usually more romance and nonsense than any true facts."

He was still shaking his head at his romanticized peers when he caught sight of Harry's amused smile. The blonde wizard blinked in surprise, feeling the tension around them slacken. The chance of learning more about the mysterious vampires arose, like a seedling just beginning to reach towards the sun. He seized the chance with both hands, though he took a less obvious route to capture the boy's attention.

"From your reaction, I assume this is not the first time you've been confronted about entering wizard society?" Draco guessed cautiously.

"It is not." Harry replied, his body tensing in anticipation in case Draco would go into another rant about wizard culture. He was surprised to see that Draco nodded in understanding.

"I can see then why you would react that way. If many of us try to force you into something you don't care about." Draco concluded. "You've been with the vampires for however long for them to gain your loyalty. To be ushered into our world, and forcefully, I think I would get annoyed too."

Honestly, Draco had never had such an experience of that magnitude, but his peers were pushy sometimes. Some of them would try to pressure him into something just so that they would get the credit. As a child, he had often fallen for their ploys. They had siphoned off his reputation as a Malfoy, worming their way into his favor and were forever trying to gain control over him so that they may use him for their own gains. His father had saved him from more hurt than he had suffered, but enough pain had disillusioned him to his supposed friends.

As a Malfoy, he could not allow others to use him as though he were a tool. As he grew older, his eyes had become accustomed to spotting those kinds of requests.

"Would you at least consider our world?" Draco inquired, now that the tension seemed to have dissipated entirely.

Harry assessed the boy sitting across from him. He had pegged him to be something like a spoiled child and while he seemed like it at first, there was something about Draco that made Harry want to respond.

The question was one made out of curiosity without the intent of wheedling him into a promise that he had no desire to make. Would it really be such a burden to do as Draco asked, Harry wondered. He was already doing just that by venturing outside Imperium Hold.

"I will consider it." Harry finally said.

* * *

Severus refrained from giving into the desire to cover his face in irritation. After all, with Lucius Malfoy standing just beside him, it was crucial that no weaknesses showed through. His old friend and sometimes enemy, was like a shark scenting blood when it came to exposed weaknesses.

They were within the Dark Lord's gardens. Severus had been notified by the herbologists of an emergency several days ago. One of the younger technicians had come to him babbling in fear when he related the condition of the herbs and trees. When he first heard the news, Severus had sorely been tempted to crucio the poor soul before self-loathing destroyed the desire. With a shaky breath, he had dismissed the herbologist who had gladly fled his presence.

At that brief moment, left alone with nothing but his darker nature, Severus despaired at what he could become. Only a brief moment because that was all he could afford before he made his way to the gardens to inspect the damage. He can only fight so many demons at a time, and this one was the most pressing at the time.

He found himself amongst the herbs, flowers, and trees that had taken years to prepare and nurture. The most obvious disaster was the tree of night and day, or as it was commonly known, the equinox bearer. It was a rare specimen, worth more than the sum of a student's tuition in the seven years that they spend in the Academy. Only few could afford the equinox tree, and there were fewer that could properly provide the needs that would encourage it to flourish.

There were those that undertook the hassle of caring for it simply because it's beauty was beyond imagining. The tree was short in height, perhaps reaching eight feet, but it was thick in circumference. The bark was a solid mahogany which contrasted nicely to the brilliant emerald green of its leaves. The leaves themselves remained green all throughout the seasons except for two occasions. As the equinox approaches, the tree would start to bear golden fruit, the size no bigger than cherries. It was only on the equinox that the fruit would be ripe enough to pick. If picked before hand, the fruit would be sour and become rotted within minutes. Therefore it was essential that one must wait until the day of the equinox when the magical fruit was ripe enough. The small golden berries, while delicious, were more beneficial as potion ingredients though there were several times they were picked as delicacies.

On the night of the equinox, the leaves of the tree would become translucent. It was theorized that the magic in the tree, contained in the leaves, were funneled into the flower buds that grew alongside the golden berries. At the touch of moonlight, the flower buds would unfurl to reveal silver petals that would glow as it fed off the lunar light. The tree was truly a site to behold come the next morning when silver flowers would drift from its branches to land upon the ground.

So it was with great despair that Severus beheld the once blossoming tree. Much of it was scorched, its mahogany bark blackened. The impact of what Severus could only assume was some type of fireball, had mostly destroyed the upper branches where the flowers and berries would bloom. The emerald leaves were turned into crisps, ashes breaking off at the hint of wind. Since it was still a couple months from the next equinox, there were no flower buds and no berries, for that which Severus was grateful for. The tree had received a horrible blow. Had the fireball destroyed the trunk of the tree, Severus didn't think it would have had a chance at survival, but there was a chance. Severus touched the blackened bark, feeling the ashes cling to his fingers. He held his breath as he peeled the burnt layer, hoping that he would find good news underneath.

Magical trees were fragile. Such a disaster could surely lead to its death, but if it were strong enough, the tree would endure and flourish if it were given enough help. The burnt bark fell off at his insistence, one layer, two layer, three layers... he began to despair, until finally he came upon the light brown surface under all the layers of scorched bark. Had the tree been too damage, the bark underneath would have been a sickly brown, slimy with mucous and decay. The tree would survive and perhaps, in a year, be well enough to flower once again.

He sighed in relief. Severus knew that this disaster was surely the work of his Lord and the Potter boy. Even with this knowledge, he knew that if he were to bring bad news to the Dark Lord, that he and the herbologists would be punished. It was bad enough that the lower-ranked Death Eaters were eying him in speculation, the Potions Master did not need another excuse for the Dark Lord to strengthen the rumors against him.

Lucius stepped up beside him, taking in the damage done with an admiring gaze.

"It's been years since we've seen an example of the Dark Lord's power." Lucius speculated. "It is good to know he hasn't lost his strength."

Severus wondered if he should keep this bit of information to himself. "This wasn't the Dark Lord's doing." He finally decided to say.

The blonde wizard turned to him, a look of mild surprise. He raised a brow in question. Severus just shook his head, tapping his wand against his palm. Lucius, who had been by the Dark Lord's side since the end of the war, had become accustomed to the Dark Lord's power. Severus believed that this conditioning had dulled Lucius' ability to sense the subtle differences in magical auras. Each wizard had a distinct taste when it came to their power. Some were alike, and others vastly different. This signature that had damaged the tree, while it felt similar to the Dark Lord's, was not identical.

"Can't you sense it?" Severus questioned Lucius. The other wizard stilled, trying to sense what his friend could. The faint magic echoed quietly, dark and beckoning, but underneath that trace was a lightness that was fresh. Strangely, it reminded Lucius of moonlight. The Dark Lord's power was grave and magnificent, comparable to the sun. In relation, this stranger's magic was then the moon who glowed in reflection with a coolness that countered the heat of the sun, but it was not any less magnificent.

"I can sense it." Lucius finally answered, feeling a bit disturbed. There were traces of the Dark Lord's magic, and it entwined sensually with the stranger's. That was not what disturbed the Death Eater. What disturbed him was the fact that this stranger's magic seemed to be equal to the Dark Lord's. It was raw, that was true enough, but the strength of it was powerful enough that Lucius had mistaken it for the Dark Lord's.

"Who is it?" Lucius demanded then felt embarrassed by his lack of subtly. He had let his eagerness steal away his control, and he regretted it when he saw Severus smirk.

"By Merlin." Squeaked a voice behind them. Filius Flitwick, current Charms Master of Arcanum Academy and ward-maker of Voldemort's estates, took in the state of the equinox tree.

Severus was relieved to see such an easy option out of this predicament. Knowing that the Dark Lord had come here to meet Harry was proof enough as to who the stranger was. But that did not mean he wanted to reveal such a piece of knowledge to Lucius.

Flitwick walked towards them with short steps, huffing unhappily. Severus greeted him with a cool welcome while Lucius only nodded in acknowledgment. The short professor scanned the area with keen eyes that had not diminished in age, seeing things that neither Severus or Lucius had the ability to. The fine lines of wards flowed above their heads, humming so faintly that to others, the sound was just the hum of the wind. Flitwick, having mastered charms and pursuing the knowledge of wards, knew what each line and intersection meant.

Lucius caught Severus' eye, a warning that their discussion was not over. Severus only smiled in return, knowing he could withstand any attack that the other Death Eater could throw at him. Lucius was a political genius, capable to getting the upper hand in many situations that would leave a wizard ruined in social standing. But Severus was his intellectual master, and he didn't fear his ability to keep secrets from the Malfoy Lord.

Flitwick murmured in displeasure. "The wards here have been drained." He concluded to himself. They two wizards became alarmed at the news. "What could have possibly drained them?" Lucius demanded.

The short wizard started as though he had forgotten they were there. "It is bad." He assessed the lines again. "These were just renewed two years ago. They should be just slightly worn, not almost depleted like it is now. The weaver's knot here," he pointed to a spot somewhere beyond them, "is almost completely unraveled." Lucius and Severus had glanced out of habit, but saw nothing. Flitwick made a sound of surprise as he spied something else. "The Spider Matrix has torn!" Within seconds, the professor's wand was in hand, casting a series of spells that came easily with experience.

Lucius and Severus could do nothing but watch, as they were not experienced in wards. Severus understood only vaguely what the Charms Master had muttered. The spider matrix was a set of wards linked together, typically anchoring eight wards. They were held together at a base and very much resembled an arachnid. The Weaver's knot was often used to unite and therefore strengthen two wards.

Translucent strings of magic drifted out of the Flitwick's wand, spinning out towards the direction its caster deemed. Once far enough away, the lines became impossible to see, rejoining the torn shreds that only the ward-maker was able to see.

Once Flitwick was finished, he wiped a handkerchief against his forehead, sighing in relief. "If I had arrived just a moment later, the lines connected to the spider matrix would have fallen. It would have taken a week to take down the wards, then another month to reestablish them in the correct order. I was just in time."

Severus stepped up the wizard. "What is happening, Flitwick?"

"The wards are weakening, though I can't find the source." Flitwick revealed after a moment. "There are wards to detect attacks, and those are intact and yet they haven't triggered. I don't quite understand it." He shook his head and with a grave face said, "I have to report this to... to the Dark Lord." He left with a stony expression, not looking forward at all to imparting this news.

* * *

When a messenger had reached Draco, he had left Harry at the entrance of a courtyard. The note he had received was signed by his father and so, he could not delay. He assured Harry that there wouldn't be that many wizards or witches around to disturb him as many would be still in class.

The courtyard that Harry found himself in was pretty simple. It was a wide open space between the buildings that made up the Arcanum Academy. There were benches situated here and there, with several trees that acted as an enticing reprieve from the sun when it became too hot. In the center of the courtyard, Harry suspected a statue would be erected in honor of the Dark Lord, but instead found a fountain.

It was a three tier fountain, and at the top was an elegant owl. It's large, dark eyes gazed down upon its observer with serene eyes. Wisdom had been carved into the eyes of this magnificent creature. It's wings were outstretched, not in threat, but as though the bird was to take off into some grand adventure. In one if it's sharp talons, it held a stone of vibrant red coloring. Water flowed from the thick hallow branch under its talons, trickling into the lower tiers. Each level was filled with mixed crystals, the colors ranging from red, green, yellow, and even a hint of purple. Harry didn't know what they were, but laying his head against the cool stone of the fountain was relaxing. Engraved on the surface of the middle tier were the words "Capto Scientia. Capto Agnitio." which Harry didn't understand either. The lack of knowledge was slightly bothersome, but he pushed the feeling aside to enjoy the sense of calm that had befallen him.

Harry could feel the slight touch of water that fell on his head now and then. He opened his eyes, watching the water sparkle in the fading sunlight, the mix of colors mesmerizing and soothing.

He didn't want to admit it, but Arcanum Academy was an interesting place. It was very large, and was in actuality two schools. One school was directed towards the incoming younger generation until seventh year. They were taught basics, the foundations of all the major genres of magic which included potions, charms, transfiguration, amongst others. The second school, named Arcanum University was situation closer to Hogsmeade, but was within walking distance. There, the graduated students of Arcanum could choose to specialize in a profession.

Harry wouldn't have the chance to visit the University, but he was at peace with that thought. The Academy was large enough that just walking through all the building was tiring as it was. The servant, while not unused to traveling, was extremely tired by the time Draco had been called away. It didn't help that the rays of the sun leeched his remaining strength away.

He did see many things that were strange and foreign to him. Some of it was awe-inspiring, others not so much. Harry coughed, feeling a chill steal it's way down his spine, and shivered. Without audience, he coughed until the tremors went away, feeling weak but better for it. He decided a quick rest was best before Draco found him again.

Before he could doze off, he heard several voices raised in taunting insults. He raised his head, seeing a group of students entering the courtyard. A boy, most likely Draco's age, was walking with quick, hurried steps, his shoulders hunched over the book bag he carried in his arms. He face was turned downwards, trying to ignore the others that followed at his heels. Two boys and a girl followed closely behind. The boys seemed almost identical with bulky frames and a threatening pose. The girl seemed to be a tag along, a mean look in her eyes as her lips turned in a smirk.

Even with his bright red hair obscuring his features, Harry could see the tight, angry scowl that twisted the pursued boy's lips.

One of the larger boys grabbed the fleeing wizard's arm. "Weasley!" The bigger boy snarled, wrenching his arm. The boy, Weasley, almost stumbled, yet calmly turned to face the group of students despite the pain he must have surely felt.

Harry wondered if he should get involved at all, but decided to watch just a moment.

Ronald Weasley, sixth year student in Arcanum Academy, turned to face Gregory Goyle. His temper was straining at its leash, and he very badly wanted to curse the other boy. His wand was clenched tight in his fist, but he didn't dare utter a word much less a hex. Goyle was pureblood, like many of the students in the Academy, but his family was one of the few that had been acknowledge as supporters of the Dark Lord and had therefore gained a status of prestige. Unlike him, unlike the Weasleys, who had been disgraced and ground into the dust for their allegiance to Dumbledore.

Raising a wand against Goyle meant punishment and further shame. It would mean trouble for him, his brothers, and especially his father who worked as an irrelevant ministry worker. It was for that reason that Ron clenched his teeth, and looked up at his tormentor with deadened eyes. Bitter was the taste of defeat in his mouth.

They continued to ridicule him, calling him many insulting names that made Ron's cheeks burn as red as his hair. And still he took them without a sound, feeling his heart race with all the hatred and anger in his veins. He felt as though his teeth would break from all the grinding he was doing. He had to force his hands to relax around his wand lest he snapped it in half.

Crabbe, Goyle's twin in all but name, laughed at his expression. They called him mudblood lover, traitor, and anything they could pick at, they used as fodder. Even the disappearance of his mother and sister wasn't spared for it was used as example of how much of a disgrace his family was. Ronald bowed his head in anger, hexes and curses shut tightly behind clenched teeth.

"I'm talking to you, Weasel!" Crabbe bit out as he roughly grabbed his shoulder.

"I've seen many beautiful things here," a voice speculated. "And now I see a very ugly thing, I am relieved."

Surprised, the students turned to find a slight figure watching the scene with folded arms. Ron's breath caught, glimpsing the edge of a lightning bolt scar between the dark fringes of hair. _Harry Potter!_ The thought brought about a surge of emotions, many of which he was already feeling. He felt anger at the boy, hatred, despising the so called savior that his father often talked about. The emotion he hated the most was the hope he felt flare.

Harry stood, leaning against one of the benches. The voices of the bullies had reached too far, invading the quiet that he had enjoyed. He had watched for a moment, seeing their pathetic attempts to break the boy called Weasley. Harry almost admired the red head's control over his temper. He had to get involved, it looked too interesting to leave be. Or perhaps the sickness was to blame for his actions for it left him so weak that he wanted to provoke the two boys.

Crabbe let go of Weasley's arm, turning his full attention to the intruder. He was a shorter boy, looking as though he were a year or two younger than they were. He didn't wear the school colors of navy blue robes, but they had assumed that he was a student which meant he'd either be a Fifth or Fourth year. He didn't recognize the face, and so concluded that this boy was insignificant. He was not part of the Dark Lord's noble families nor was he even in the same year. He didn't deserve to look upon them with those eyes that seemed to think them inferior.

With a crack of his knuckles, Crabbe pulled his wand from his pocket. "And who are you?" He sneered.

Goyle laughed having come to the same conclusions, "A nobody, I reckon. I haven't seen him here before."

Parkinson, who had imparted the insult of his mother, stepped up with a dark smile. She assessed the boy, thinking that he could be attractive... but not with that ashen skin and wild wind blow hair. The green scarf that was wrapped around his neck was also a strange fashion statement, since it seemed to light and flimsy to provide any real protection from the still chilly breeze. Regardless, his foolishness in challenging them was enough to mark him as unworthy.

"You should have just left us to have our fun with Weasley here. Now that you're part of the game... well." She gave her two companions, Crabbe and Goyle, a glance. "They're known to break their toys." She said with a fake sigh of regret.

Ron groaned silently. He didn't know what to expect with the arrival of _Harry Potter_, but now he knew that he would have to protect them both. How could that slight thing be the savior that Dumbledore so often spoke of? Ron dropped his bag, gripping his wand once more. He would get into a shit load of trouble, but he had been told that this boy's safety was worth whatever disgrace he could incur. He had agreed that would offer whatever help he could, as long as his family didn't get tortured or killed because of it.

Surprisingly, at Pansy's words, a mysterious smile appeared on Harry's face. His arms fell to his side, and it was only then that Pansy caught sight of the Dark Mark on the robes. Her eyes widened in surprise, hand reaching out to grasp the sleeve of Goyle's robe.

Seeing that Harry's hands were wand-less, Crabbe smirked, saying, "Don't you know, little boy? The importance of carrying your wand with you. Don't worry, I'll teach it to you." He said as he lifted his wand.

"Vincent!" Pansy hissed in alarm. The other boy turned to her in surprise, annoyed at her tone.

"What is it Pansy?" He hissed in return. He was eager to curse this younger student after all.

"We should go." She said, a warning in her eyes. Goyle turned to her in surprise while Crabbe scoffed.

"Are you kidding me?" He stared at her. Pansy's lips tightened, and her eyes flicked towards the boy. She mentally sighed. Crabbe and Goyle could be so dense sometimes, but luckily now wasn't one of those times. Goyle had followed the flick of her eyes, seeing the morbid design of skull and serpent on the boy's dark green robes.

It was then that Draco made his appearance, entering the courtyard. The group of students, in their blue uniforms caught his attention right away. Seeing no other person besides them, he walked over to them and caught sight of Harry who was leaning against one of the benches as he faced the group of familiar students.

"Crabbe. Goyle." Draco said in surprise as he walked towards them. He looked at Harry who stood so nonchalantly with his peers who looked at him with round eyes. "Pansy. What are you doing here?"

Pansy's eyes darted to the boy's, seeing the faint smirk as he stood behind Draco. "We were..." She murmured, gaze lowered, before she snapped them up to meet Draco's. "We were just walking with Weasley to the next class."

Draco smirked, understanding the situation. Weasley was practically an outcast, often picked on for his family's sullied reputation. Crabbe and his group were often part of the posse that followed Draco, but with his absence today, they had indulged in a little Weasley baiting. Not that Draco minded, but he didn't want his visitor to witness such an uncouth event. He had a faint inkling that they may have threatened the vampire servant.

"I see you've met Harry." He said with a arrogant smirk. Harry stepped up to his side, gazing at the bullies with a secretive smile. "He came with the vampire escort that arrived several months ago. I was instructed to take him on a tour through the Academy."

Crabbe and Goyle paled considerably. They were infamous for their objections to the vampire treaty that was taken place in Imperium Hold. They seemed to have feared for their necks, sick with dread at the possibility of the vampires being granted permission to publicly wander the streets of their magical world. Pansy looked even more nervous as Harry did a slight bow. She shifted to the side, trying to hide behind Goyle's larger frame.

It was only then that Draco caught the sight of auburn hair, of Weasley.

He gently took Harry's arm, leading the servant away without acknowledging the red headed boy. He felt it was enough to properly scare the group. He didn't want to bother himself with Weasley. The meeting with his father took long enough and now they were behind schedule as it was. He had planned to bring Harry to the Quidditch skirmish that was scheduled for today at their linked school, Arcanum University, but surely, they wouldn't have enough time to travel there. Instead, he decided to just show Harry a simpler pleasure, one of flying in the sky.

Draco directed them towards the Academy's own quidditch field. The sun was starting to set. It would be a wonderful time to bring Harry there now that the cool night was on its way.

As they walked away from the group, Draco said to his new friend, "I apologize if they did anything to offend you. I can assure you that had they known you had the Dark Lord's protection, they would've have prostrated themselves to please you."

Harry shook his head, "It doesn't matter." He shrugged indifferently. "It was a bit of entertainment. Though, I am curious about one thing."

"Yes?" Draco asked. When they first arrived at the Academy, Harry had asked very little questions. Instead, he had taken in every detail of the school with veiled eyes, neither revealing whether he found the Academy beautiful or disappointingly ordinary.

"A term. I heard one of the boys say it often." Harry said. "Mudblood. What does it mean?"

"Ah. Yes, you wouldn't know the term. The correct term would be a muggleborn." Draco explained. "Its an insult that means dirty blood. They're people who aren't from any of the pureblood lines. Purebloods have a long history of being witches and wizards. Our bloodlines are pure, purely magical, and have no taint of muggles, which is non-magical folk. The Dark Lord, before he came into office, advocated for the purebloods which were slowly losing strength because muggleborns were tainting our lines. Tainting them by weakening them, and also diluting our culture. Mudbloods are pretty much treated like a disease."

Draco hesitated before asking, "I don't suppose you have anything like that amongst the slaves? I mean, a way of differentiating those who have been with the vampires the longest?"

Harry looked thoughtful before shaking his head. "The slaves are slaves. I don't think it matters who was there the longest though there are, of course, favorites."

"I see... I guess you wouldn't understand then. The situation that was the purebloods' before the Dark Lord came." Draco said as he watched the other boy. The dark hair, the green eyes. He had never known another person in the pureblood families that had Harry's eyes. He had a suspicion that Harry wasn't a pureblood, but he left out the comment, not wanting to possibly offend the other boy.

Harry paused, meeting the blonde wizard's eyes. There was an enigmatic emotion in his eyes that Draco couldn't decipher.

"In my world, there are the vampires, and then there are the.." Harry's lips twitched in amusement before continuing,"... Well. The more polite term for them is the blood hungry." He broke their stare and continued to walk alongside Draco towards their destination. "The blood hungry are filthy things, either reveling in their hunger or drowning in it. They are weak and yet, they are also poor victims of their sires who abandoned them. No guidance, no link to the nest. They can never be brought back to their former selves."

He shook his head, though there was a grimace of disgust on his features. "It is tragic, but the way the vampires look at them is the same way you look at mudbloods, perhaps with even more disgust since it is our own fault that they exist."

Draco swallowed, curiosity burning. It was a rare nugget of information that Harry had imparted though it wasn't much. It was still information, information that Draco had been looking for since he had given way to his pride in the carriage.

"That sounds like a problem." Draco mused. "Vampires are dangerous enough, but for them to be wild..."

"Oh," Harry said in surprise, as though the thought had never occurred to him. "It is not a problem."

Draco pondered the statement. "You take care of them like invalids?"

Harry stared, confused. "What do you do with mudbloods?" The word felt so foreign coming from a boy that had never known about wizards and their society, and yet it fell off his lips easily.

"We don't want them tainting our bloodlines, but we can't leave them unsupervised." Draco replied in turn. "We just try to control them as best we can."

Draco was surprised when Harry turned to him. His eyes were a chilled green and it made Draco want to shiver. "Why not just kill them all?" It was at that moment, that Draco realized how alien the other boy was, how different the vampire society must be when compared to the wizarding one.

Draco gaped at the other boy. It was such a cold comment, one that he didn't expect of the slighter boy. "That's... uncivilized!" He gasped. "The Dark Lord had wanted to wipe them out, its true. But there are too many of them, and they have much better uses than being dead." He regained his composure, slightly shaken by the strangeness of the moment. "It's enough that they know their place." He said with faked arrogance.

Harry smiled a faint smile. They had reached the quidditch pitch, and Draco went to get the brooms he wanted to show the boy. It was only in the quidditch shed that Draco realized the relevance of what Harry had suggested.

The vampires killed their own brethren.

The thought should not have caused his heart to chill. After all, hadn't he just been thinking earlier today that he didn't care about the vampires as long as his own neck was safe? Draco tried to reason with himself, confused at why such a thought had shaken him.

Then he remembered the way Harry's eyes glinted in the light, and how his lips had quirked into a bitter smile with an edge of loathing. But who were those emotions for if not for Draco? Perhaps it was the way the vampires had affected the boy that bothered him so much.

Yes... that must be it. Draco thought to himself. After all, he had found it bothersome that their servants were so devoted to their masters.

Even with the feeling of squirming in his gut, Draco left the shed, carrying one of the school's default brooms. While it wasn't as good as his own at home, it was good enough for a good time.

Inhaling deeply, Harry gazed at the empty quidditch field. The sun was just beginning to set. At one corner of the sky, Harry could already see a faint light in the still blue sky. The temperature had dropped and the cool wind rushed past him, tugging at his robes and hair. The field was large, with only three tall hooped stands on both sides of the field. Even though the bleachers at the sides were empty, Harry could imagine them full of spectators.

Above him, Draco flew past in a whirl of black and fluttering robes. The wind blew his hair into his face. Harry brushed it away, smiling as he caught sight of Draco who was turning and angling downwards. In a smooth motion born of practice, the wizard dismounted, a smug grin on his lips. Harry could sense some lingering unease in the other boy and wondered what had caused it.

"Care for a ride? I bet the vampires don't have anything like these." With a disarming smile, Harry touched the smooth, polished wood of the broom. He almost grimaced, thinking they would make handy weapons if they were broken into sharp points. The smile he gave to the other boy was a faint one, but it hid his thoughts well.

"We don't," Harry affirmed. "We don't need them." The way vampires were made, they could run long distances for days without tiring. Even if they didn't wish to run, there were other ways.

Draco laughed, amused that a wizard didn't know the joys of flying. With a grin he said, "Then you don't know what you're missing." He grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him onto the broom.

With a sound of protest that Draco ignored, they took off into the sky. Harry gripped Draco's waist tightly, not used to the dizzying speed they were starting to approach. He peeked down, seeing the field become smaller and smaller. It felt so out of control, the way he had to press himself against Draco's back, with his arms wrapped tight against the wizard's waist. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. His breath caught even as the wind stung his face.

Then time stilled and for once in a very long time, Harry felt free. Laughter spilled from his lips and Draco grinned at him. Perhaps Draco shared the sense of freedom with him, so far and so high from the ground. It was like they left all their thoughts, all their troubles, on that green field below.

It was exhilarating. Harry wanted to stretch out his hands and feel the wind slip through his fingers. He threw his head back in rapture, his grip loosening. The wind tugged at the green scarf around his neck. It fell, fluttering unnoticed in the wind.

All too soon, Draco slowed though they remained far from the ground.

"Look," Draco said. Before them was Imperium Hold, dark and magnificent. "This is the closest we can get to flying. Amazing, isn't it?"

"It is," Harry replied. "At home, we don't use brooms. It never occurred to us. We have other ways, but they're not used like this."

The blonde craned his head back. "Like what?"

Harry looked at the ground, catching sight of the yellow hoops used. The sun had already set, but the sky was not yet black. Below, lights had turned on to illuminate the field. They were so far up, it awoke something in him. He wanted to show Draco, show him a secret that only he and the wind would know. He wanted to show Draco how to fly. Harry's hands trembled. "Like this." He whispered to the other boy.

He let go, falling over the edge to plummet towards the ground.

Draco screamed in alarm. He dove down after the free falling boy, leaning flat against his broom to reduce wind resistance. Even in his panic, Draco could see no fear in the other boy as he flew past. Draco's wand was in his sweaty hand, and within seconds, a safety net was conjured. He only hoped that it would hold. Heart pounding, he waited.

Then a black blur raced through the sky, impacting what could have only been Harry.

The figure landed, Harry slightly struggling, but safe in his arms. Cool gray eyes stared down at the vampire servant while ivory hands refused to relinquish their hold. Draco could only stare in a detached sense of shock and relief. The figure was dressed in black robes, a hood pulled over his head. If he hadn't seen it with him own eyes, Draco wouldn't have believed anyone who described what he had seen moments ago.

It was shock that seemed to numb everything around him as two groups approached them from seemingly no where. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing hard, and he looked up, dazed eyes registering that it was his father. The shock fell away and it was then he realized that the other group was the vampires from Imperium Hold, awake and very much active. It was already dark, the last traces of orange had just slipped under the horizon. Draco had failed, forgetting the time, and had therefore, kept their servant past the agreed time.

He thought he should be afraid, but he wasn't. His father's heavy hand and the experience he just went through seemed to ground him. He watched as the vampire lord, Lord Jasper knelt at this stranger's feet.

The figure lowered his hood, revealing dark hair, and cold blue eyes. Another vampire, one that wasn't expected if his father's tightening grip was any indication.

He bowed in a staged show of politeness, black hair falling forward before he straightened.

"I am called Casimir." He introduced himself, voice as cold as the look in his eyes. "As Jasper's Lord, I am to lead my brethren back to the Shadows."

The silence that followed shattered magnificently in the wake of shocked and angry voices.

* * *

Notes:

The stones in the fountain would be: rhodochrosite, peridot, aventurine, citrine, and amethyst.

Capto Agnitio/Sapientia – Latin phrase I threw together

Capto: "to seek, to strive for"

Sapientia: "wisdom."

Agnitio: recognition/knowledge"


End file.
